


Power Rangers: The Golden Empire

by JCWinreallife



Category: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Power Rangers
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Crime, Gen, It's morphin time, New Show, Post-Apocalypse, jungle strike, middle aged main character, new season
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 74,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCWinreallife/pseuds/JCWinreallife
Summary: The year is 2021. The Power Rangers have been gone for over a decade, having fallen during a last ditch battle against the Queen of Gold. They sacrificed all to bring an end to the Golden Empire, and succeeded, but in their loss the world can only slowly nurse itself back to health in fortified cities, using runners to ferry cargo between them. The Emissary of Gold, Uliana, directs what remains of the once-unstoppable force, hoping to rebuild the once-mighty empire in full and topple the humans. It is a dire situation for humanity to be in. No better time for the Power Rangers to return.Brock is a middle-aged runner in the middle of ferrying medicine to Beacon City, but after his bike crashes and he's forced to run from some clayheads, he finds himself thrust into the position of Red Ranger, and humanity's last hope.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Jungle Power

The low thrum of the motorcycle was the only noise in a great distance in either direction on the long, empty road stretching forever. The bike itself was a patchwork assembly of bits and pieces from various machines and cars, and as such even the sputter coming out of the exhaust pipe was chugging and coughing every now and then.

The rider mounted atop it, clad in patchwork leathers, kept giving nervous glances through his sunglasses, down at the machine between his legs. Age lines and salt-and-pepper hair accented a face worn of time and struggle, and he tried his best to keep a brave face, but the man had heard his machine make noises like this -- it was giving out.

“C’mon, girl, don’t die on me,” Brock muttered, almost inaudible over the engine. “Just a little more, we’re almost there…”

The engine seemed, for a moment, to obey. But minutes later, there was a sudden bang from inside, and the bike lurched. The sputtering slowed, as did the wheels, and the handlebars swayed terribly. 

Brock cursed, loudly and openly, as he pulled the machine over, popping the kickstand down and stepping off to his full height. His eyes scanned all directions -- miles and miles of near infinite desert, until it vanished over the horizon or swept up into mountains. But no movement. There were no humanoid forms in any direction.

Brock crouched down, next to the engine, and pried a compartment open -- he was rewarded with a gush of steam and fluids bursting forth, spilling to the ground, and even through the leather gloves he could feel a tinge of heat on his skin. He gave a flick of his wrist to shake it dry, then dug his fingers back into the compartment.

Eventually, Brock found what he was looking for -- his fingers pried out a small glass cylinder, no bigger than his finger, and it was cracked down the side, only the slightest tint of green goo lining the fragmented hole.

“Ahhh, damn it,” Brock grumbled, and flicked it aside.

It took him a few minutes to walk his bike near a rock outcropping, and throw the sand-colored camo blanket over the top of it. He pulled two things from the saddlebag -- a small backpack, and a rag, which he wrapped around his head and let drape down his neck, protecting him from the sun. And with that, he started to walk, following the road.

It was nearly an hour before luck fell across him -- in the distance, an old waystation, one set up for runners like him. Brock hoped it wasn’t picked over, otherwise he was in for a long and dangerous walk.

The buildings were dilapidated and broken, and looked entirely abandoned, but Brock’s eyes fell on a gas station, the kind that had the M charges that shattered in his bike. 

Brock gave a glance up at the sun, which was currently getting to about the afternoon, and thought, _Before dark, if I’m lucky._

He was careful creeping into the little outpost, knowing the likelihood of clayheads in the area. They loved to litter these kinds of places, skulking around looking for stray humans that weren’t in the protective walls of the city. Brock wasn’t afraid of one, but they tended to number upwards of three to six, which would present a problem with his scavenging.

Somehow, they weren’t. Brock’s journey was undisturbed, and the city seemed quiet. He crept through, eyes constantly looking around, until he came upon the gas station he spotted before. He shouldered the door open, and slipped inside, stepping on the debris with a small crunch as his boots came down.

It was mostly a hole of a building, with old water pipes ripped from the walls, a crumbling roof decayed with sun exposure, and all sorts of rusted tools for painting or repair. Nobody had attended this waystation in some time.

 _Please be here,_ he thought, and started digging into a cupboard. _Runners have stashes, please tell me this is one…_

A good fifteen minutes of searching through drawers and cupboards until finally, at last, procured the thing he needed -- a blank shell, and an injector with just enough fuel left inside to get back. 

“Today isn’t going too bad,” he said, stuffing the objects into his backpack. 

And then a noise caught his attention -- a scream, from a woman. And a human woman. Which meant one of two things; grunts, or even possibly a monster in the area.

 _Time to go,_ he thought, and turned to walk away. He slipped out the front door, careful to not make any noise, and began the trek back to his bike, at a jogging pace.

The screams had gotten closer, and the woman who made them turned the corner. She was covered in tattered rags, clutching something against her chest tightly, stumbling into a wall as she fled. Her movements were frantic, and her eyes wide, in terror and panic.

She didn’t see Brock. And so Brock turned away, and started a small jog away, holding a hand on the strap to his backpack. 

For a second, the screams followed him as he left. But then he heard the familiar sound of a monster’s sickening laugh -- it bellowed with a human-like voice, tinted with malice and a bit of a squawk, and followed, cackling.

“Someone help!” the woman wailed, in terror. “Please!”

Brock kept walking. 

And then, his pace slowed until it stopped. 

_Come on, just go, not your problem,_ he told himself, willing his legs to move.

But they didn’t. Instead, he gave a great sigh, turned in place, and started walking back towards them.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered. _I’m going to regret this._

Brock walked back into the gas station with purpose, already forming a plan. He walked to the wall and grabbed a bit of the pipe jutting out of it, and wrenched it down as hard as he could, then pulled. His biceps and chest bulged with effort as he did, and it only took a few moments of pulling before it popped free. He held it a moment, testing the weight, then walked to the door, snagging one of the rusted paint buckets as he walked back out.

The woman was in a corner, cowering, hands on her chest, making great wails of terror. Brock could hear the wail of a child coming from in her clutches. And above her, was the monster. It was an ugly thing -- grey feathers covered it head to toe, and large talons jutted from its wing-like appendages. A yellowed beak jutted out of the center, and it wiggled sickeningly as he laughed, looming over the woman.

“I haven’t eaten in weeks!” the crow-monster laughed, hands raised, claws twitching. He grabbed at the woman, yanking at the rags she was dressed in. “And I do love a fresh meal…”

The woman screamed, and leaned away as she was lifted, bodily. 

Brock, at that moment, was only a good twenty feet away, and cleared his throat. The thing looked at him, with a grunt of confusion. 

“You should try going vegan,” Brock said, pointing at him. “Better for your digestion.”

“Who the hell are you?” the thing growled. 

Brock gave a shrug. “Nobody,” he said, and gestured again with the pipe. “Now put down the food, Mr. Feathers.”

The simple taunt caused the thing to stiffen. “Mister...feathers?” it snapped, and took a step forward, towards Brock, leaving the woman be, and gave a great beat of his chest. “I am no mere bird, human! I am _Crowblow!_ ”

Brock’s head tilted, and an eyebrow raised. “Crow-blow?” he said, in disbelief, and shook his head. “I swear, Uliana is getting lazy with the names.”

Crowblow let out a great snarl, and took a step forward, hands spread wide, and jumped into the air right at Brock.

Brock saw the attack coming a mile away, and he moved like it; he crouched low, and made a great step forward, bringing the pipe up with him. Crowblow’s claws cleanly missed, and cut through the air just as his beak came into rough, painful contact with the butt of the pipe. 

The creature let out a squawk, and Brock moved to juke to the side, but Crowblow’s foot came up, and gave a powerful kick right to Brock’s chest. He fell away, giving a grunt as the wind was knocked from his lungs, and smashed into the ground, skidding slightly with the monster’s blow.

 _Ow,_ he thought, touching his chest and working to his feet. _Good job, Brock. Really showing him aren’t you._

Crowblow let out a great huff, and beat at his chest, and squawked loudly. “I’ll show you the power of the crow clan!” he roared, and his beak widened even further, and then more, until it was past a right angle and the dark void inside was all that could be seen.

Brock crouched and tensed, waiting for some kind of energy blast to erupt from his mouth, but instead, he felt a wind rushing at his back, towards Crowblow. And it was picking up, whipping the clothes on his back rapidly.

“A vacuum attack?” Brock shouted, arms crossed over his face. “But your name is ‘blow!’ Why not be Crowsuck, instead? That-”

His quip was cut off as he could feel his feet sliding, and he watched as the debris and clutter of the alley shot into Crowblow’s mouth -- and vanished. Brock’s foot slid in place, and he caught himself quickly. “Woah, crap!”

Brock’s body moved on instinct. His left hand, clutching the paint bucket, pitched it as hard as he could, right at Crowblow. It was a wild guess, and entirely improvised, and a perfect move -- the gaping maw in Crowblow’s throat was just a little too small for the bucket, and as soon as it landed in his beak, the wind stopped, and he let out a cry of frustration and bit down.

It dented the bucket, but it was still lodged in deep, and therefore Crowblow didn’t see as Brock came rushing at him, pipe clutched in his hand, swinging with all his might.

The smash of metal-on-metal caused Crowblow to stumble, and fall, clutching at his head as he held his beak, giving a congested ‘awk!” Brock didn’t let up -- he swung, again, right into his head, and there was a squak of pain, and suddenly Crowblow’s arms were crossed over his head, protectively. 

Brock ignored them, and swung, this time aiming for his stomach. And he kept swinging, the lead pipe making loud ‘whunk, whunk, whunk’ noises, until Crowblow’s squawking went shrill, and then he out a great yell. Purple lightning shot through his body. He went stiff -- where there was a monster, was only a clay statue with its features.

Brock’s pipe was already in the air as the creature returned to its base form, and he stopped his assault, slowly lowering the pipe, taking deep inhales as he did. The thing didn’t move. It was destroyed. He was breathing deeply.

“Well,” he said, with difficulty. “At least that one didn’t explode.

He looked at the woman. She seemed unharmed, though terrified. He pointed at her. “You okay?” he asked, casting the pipe aside as he said it.

The woman was quiet, staring at him -- the baby in her arms let out a small cry, and she was too shocked to speak.

“You okay?” he repeated.

Again, she was silent. Frozen.

Brock gave up; he pointed towards the road. “Look, Beacon City is that way,” he pointed, off in the distance, down the road he was just driving on. “Go, ask for asylum. They should give you shelter.”

She was still quiet, but slowly got to her feet, the infant clenched tight against her chest. She stared at Brock, mouth open slightly, until she finally managed to ask, with a small, quiet utterance, “Are...are you a Power Ranger?”

Brock’s shoulders slumped, and he gave a great sigh. “I’m not a Power Ranger, lady,” he said, and turned in place, walking away as he spoke. “The Power Rangers are dead.”

And then, as he got further away, his voice grew quieter, and he said, “Everyone knows that.”

Brock managed to get a few feet away before a telltale clink in his backpack caught his attention -- he pulled it off, a sinking feeling in his stomach, and reached inside to the crate, and pulled it out.

It was crushed almost entirely in two, the wooden slats not holding up to Brock’s body falling on it entirely. He shook the box lightly -- it made tiny ‘tink’ noises as the broken glass inside rattled about. 

Brock took a deep breath, and exhaled, slowly, eyes pressed tightly together. “Man…” he muttered. “Come on…”

*

Brock eventually got his bike working again, but dusk was growing closer, and he knew he didn’t want to be caught out like this -- his bike was running on fumes, canister was running low, and he had no lights. If clayheads came by, he would be stuck. And he could pull some miracles on an unsuspecting monster, but if it was any stronger than Crowblow -- or at least, if it was smarter -- he’d be dead. 

And that didn’t even include the mountains that he had to pass through. The Beacon Heights, as they came to be known, were facing the south border to the city, and the paved road from the old world carved through them to get there. However, thanks to the tallest towers, both were still visible. 

He was at last getting closer to Beacon City. It stretched into the sky, looking more like a fortress than a civilization. If Brock squinted, he could see the energy cannons that mounted on the surrounding walls, pointed at all ways to keep the invading forces out.

Brock had only just gotten into the mountain ranges when he felt the bike shudder underneath him -- the handlebars were again going wild, and for a moment, Brock cursed his luck that his engine was failing once more. But as he pulled over, he realized it wasn’t the bike. It was an earthquake.

He let out a shout of panic as he felt the shake suddenly intensify, and he could salvage it, but the wild veering took him offroad. A few rocks and uneven ground sliding beneath him, and the bike and he both toppled over, Brock barely diving away in time before it fell on his leg. His head whacked into the ground, and stars exploded in his vision.

By the time the rumbling stopped, and the earth was a little more still, Brock’s head was pounding, and he laid a few moments before getting to his feet, lightly shaking his head as he did. 

“Aww, man,” he groaned, looking at his bike -- when it fell, it swung wild, and landed hard enough to knock a part out. He gripped it and looked at the empty slot, then back to the part. 

“I can’t fix this!” he said aloud, to nobody, and gave a frustrated yell as he chucked it to the ground. Then, a moment later, he kicked the bike. 

He winced. His foot ached, and he felt no better. _Ow._

But, eventually, Brock knew the problem wouldn’t solve itself, and he knew he had a long walk ahead of him. And so he again threw his camo tarp over his bike, shouldered his backpack, and started to walk. 

It turned out slightly fortunate that the earthquake happened; the road was almost entirely crushed by a landslide that sent rocks piled up into his path. Brock groaned, and began to climb over them. 

“Great,” he mumbled. “Paycut on destroyed cargo, no road to speak of, no fuel for the bike, and it’s broken down. Just perfect. Exactly what you deserve, you idiot…”

Brock was so discouraged, frustrated, and angry, that he was no longer looking around. And so he didn’t even see for a moment when a figure jolted upright, and started moving towards him, peering up over some outcroppings. 

He continued to not notice, until a tumbling bit of dust and gravel fell next to him, and his eyes went up. He saw the figure, and he groaned. 

“My day could not get any better,” he said, and brought his fists up.

The clayheads were awful things -- looked like deformed putties from decades ago, but with bigger eyes, larger heads with more deformed spots, and gold strips of armor across their chests and wrists and ankles. The clayhead let out unintelligible noises, hands waving in the air, as it rushed towards Brock.

Brock tensed, and just as the clayhead swung at him, he ducked, and brought his fist right into its stomach, as hard as he could. The impact to the armor hurt his hand, but he did his best to ignore it, tightening his other fist and shooting a quick kidney blow. The clayhead convulsed, clearly feeling that, and Brock stepped back, giving himself enough space to do a side kick right to its back.

The clayhead hit the ground, and Brock wasted no time in grabbing a rock almost bigger than Brock could carry, and hurriedly smashing the clayface in its weakness -- the head. As soon as the rock impacted it, the whole thing went still, and crumbled into clay.

‘“Whew,” Brock said, and gave a little grin. “Easy. I still got this.”

But more of the weird gibbering noises were echoing in the mountains, and Brock groaned quietly, and looked up, at the mountains that stretched overhead.

His eyes looked up and around, and he saw some -- and then more. And then more still. There had to be at least fifteen of the clay-and-metal monstrosities. And he got the impression that wasn’t the end of it.

“Me and my big mouth,” Brock muttered, and turned, breaking into a run.

Two clayheads dropped to the ground, just in front of his path. Brock didn’t hesitate, and at once sprung into the air, putting everything he had behind one spin kick right at the first clayface’s head. He landed, and it was just enough to crack the hard exterior. 

But it opened him up to the other one -- and that clayhead at once landed a hard punch to his chest, sending him reeling. He stumbled back, and as he turned, the clayhead sprung forward, kicking him in the side. 

He let out a groan of pain, clutching at his side, and looked up right as the clayface went to land a drop kick right on his back.

Brock’s eyes flashed. “No no, not the pack!” he shouted, and spun in place, bringing his arm up to block it. The impact to his forearm felt like it almost shattered his wrist, and he took the moment to shoot a quick kick right at the clayface’s free knee.

It wasn’t a weak spot, but the joint damage was enough to cause the clayface to buckle, and Brock took the chance to jump up, holding his abdomen, and fled.

The clayheads had gotten closer, as the one he fought joined the rest. Brock chanced a glance behind his back as he jumped over boulders and juked pathways, hoping to lose them in the sprint. There were about a dozen. Way more than he could take. His gut instinct to run served him well. He was massively outnumbered.

 _Clayheads are slow,_ he thought, as he slipped through a crevice. _I can use that. If I just-_

His foot went down, and suddenly the ground exploded underneath him, and he fell, letting out a startled yell as he did. 

It was painful the whole way down -- his leg was wrenched to the side, he tumbled away, his arm banged into an outcropping of the wall, and that was only setting up for the moment when he shifted to the left and he just slammed, roughly, right into his chest. But at last, he hit the ground, arm caught in the impact, and laid there for several moments, groaning. 

At one point, this sort of scraping would have been brushed aside. Instead, in his late forties, Brock groaned loudly, and gave a great heave as he rolled to his stomach, and began the agonizing process of getting to his feet. Old injuries like his back and his knee were screaming in pain.

“Maybe I should just let them kill me,” he muttered, under his breath. “Maybe that would just be easier.”

He worked himself up, holding his leg -- something felt torn in his inner thigh, and it screamed in protest. The wall was his stability, eyes squinted shut, sucking in a deep breath as he tried to will his broken body to move. 

“Plus,” he added, wincing. “That way I don’t have to turn in mangled cargo.”

But, all the same, he started moving. 

The caves he found himself in were dark, beyond what he could possibly have expected. It was dark now, outside, and it made the caves feel like no light could enter them. Like they were black holes, devouring any light. His only reliable guide was to use the wall -- his hand pressed to the one to his right, hobbling as he went, and he followed it. More than once Brock ran right into a wall, even feeling out, and followed it back around to go down another path. 

But then, much to his surprise, he saw light. It was almost hard to see what it was at first, but a vaguely blue light tinged from down one hallway. He followed it -- partly because it was a relief to see once again, but partly because he hoped it might lead him out. 

As he got closer, and the light was more distinct, and vivid. He turned a corner, and poked his head around the edge of it, peering at the source of the light.

The light came from a slab on a wall, in a room that...wasn’t a cave. Brock wasn’t sure how to put it, but it wasn’t a cave any longer. It looked alien, almost, and high tech. The slab itself radiated blue light, and it was blank, and it shone enough on the rest of the room to allow Brock to see. One wall on the side had some sort of device panel on it, with all sorts of knobs and switches, and even a TV-like contraption. 

His head turned, and his gaze fell on the other wall -- five lights shone from a pyramid-like construction, green, yellow, blue, and one odd dark color that he assumed was black, and at the top, a single red light. 

And in each of them was a device, mounted to a wrist strap. The low light glinted off of streaks of silver in the black metal, and a single switch like a tiny lever jutted out of the top. Each one had little stripes of color across the sides, into the strap on the wrist.

They were morphers. 

“Oh no,” Brock said, and began to back away. “No no no. No way.”

He turned and hobbled off, down the other cave pathway, in what he hoped was an exit. His hopes were correct; the noise of clayheads coming down the hallway before him were suddenly audible, and growing louder.

“Crap,” he muttered, and looked back at the morphers. Then back at the cave. 

Then back to the morphers again, and his face looked pained.

“Ahhhhhh, double crap,” he said, and hesitated a second longer before he started walking slowly back.

The clayheads were getting closer, and he heard them clearly as he grabbed the red one at the top, and pressed it to his wrist. Red streaks of energy suddenly jolted up his arm, and he tightened the strap.

 _May the power of the jungle course through you, wielder of the mandrill’s might,_ a voice in his head spoke, deep and booming. _Now pull the lever, strike your fist into the air, and cry out for jungle power!_

Brock sighed, and brought his arm up, free hand gripping the lever.

“I am going to regret this,” he said, under his breath, and he tugged the lever down.

_“Red Mandrill -- jungle power!”_

His fist shot into the air, as high as he could reach, and there was an explosion from his arm.

Energy lanced down from the morpher, and suddenly, where there was a middle aged man before, now there was a red Power Ranger. Markings of a mandrill snout lined the crown of his helmet, and a black visor stretched across his eyes, tiny teeth jutting from the top and bottom. 

White streaks ripped across the chest of his red suit, and a belt with a mandril face on it shone from his torso. A sleek black belt stretched around his waist from a buckler at his stomach, which glinted with the face of a mandrill.

Suddenly, Brock’s body didn’t hurt. He felt strong. And ready. And he watched the clayheads turn the corner, saw him, and hesitated.

“Wrong room?” he asked, with a grin he knew they couldn’t see, and sprung forward.

He gave two great strides forward, and punched once, hard, right through the leader’s head, exploding it into a confetti of crumbling clay.

“God, that feels better,” he said, and gave a spinkick that turned another into dust.

They all rushed at him, fists going into the air, but Brock with the powers was a whole other animal. Before, he relied on his brawn to end the fight before it began -- but now that he was the Red Ranger, there was no worry. He moved between them with expertise, ducking blows and blocking kicks, before smashing them to pieces.

One jumped on his back, howling as it grabbed at his arms, and Brock gave a laugh. 

“If you wanted a piggyback ride,” he laughed, and crouched low. “Should’ve just said so!”

He gave a great squat, and a jump, and shot into the air, throwing his head back as he did. The clayhead managed to look up just in time to see the ceiling rushing at him, just as it felt the Ranger helmet bash into him. There was an impact, and it returned to the clumps of clay it once was.

Within moments, he had cut through fifteen -- and despite being a little messy in the hallway, there was nary a sound in the hall. 

Brock relaxed, and stood to full height. He fumbled a moment with the clasp at his neck, and pulled the helmet off. 

“Well done, Red Ranger.”

Brock’s head hung a little, and he gave a sardonic grin as he turned in place, looking where the voice came from.

The panel he saw before, the one radiating blue light, now had a face on it. It was as if a hologram was jutting out of the space on the wall. The face was mostly formless, but details were noticeable -- he was older, with bushy eyebrows, and a small goatee that ended in a point on his chin. 

Brock gave a point to him. “The voice in my head?” he asked, and tapped his temple.

“Correct, Ranger,” the man said, nodding. “That was my voice that taught you how to use the morpher.”

“Not a Ranger,” Brock corrected, with a wave of his hand. “And you are? Please tell me it doesn’t start with a Z.”

“I am Soloz,” he replied, head lifting slightly. 

Brock snorted. “Ends with a Z,” he said, nodding. “Of course.”

Soloz continued, unabated; “You are in my Power Chamber. These powers have slept for twenty five years, and now awoken again, when you took the-”

“I’m just gonna stop you right there,” Brock said, hands up. “I’m not a Power Ranger, and this isn’t my fight. How do I power back down?”

Soloz gave him a stare, at a loss for a moment, then said. “You...you relax your body, and allow the power to leave yourself. But I don’t-”

“Perfect,” Brock said, and closed his eyes, relaxing as he was told, and feeling that part in his chest that was suddenly alight with energy. Slowly, he released it, like a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

When he opened his eyes, he was Brock again -- with the jungle morpher still strapped to his wrist.

“Great,” he said, and reached to take it off.

“Wait, keep it on,” Soloz said, urgently, his voice sounding a little more rushed. “You...you might be attacked, and if you leave it here, it-”

Brock tried to find the strap, where he put it where he first put the thing on, but it...was gone. As if it never was. The whole strap just merged into itself, locked to his wrist. He was stuck.

“Please, I sense the earth is in grave danger,” Soloz was saying. “You were fortunate to find this place, and gain the power of-”

“How do I get this morpher off me?” Brock said, ignoring his words.

Soloz’s face read shock a moment, then hardened. “You...cannot possibly be thinking of rejecting the power.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he said, pointing at his wrist. “I am not a Power Ranger. Get this thing off me. I have deliveries to make.”

“What is more important than the delivery of salvation to the earth?”

“The crate in my backpack,” Brock said, jerking a thumb at his back.

Soloz went quiet. “You are serious, I assume.”

“It has medicine I’m delivering to the grey market in the city. And when I deliver that,” he made a sarcastic gesture with both hands towards the city, then back to himself. “Then that delivers me money, which delivers me food.”

Sarcastically, he pointed at his pocket, then his stomach as he spoke. “Or, what, do you not eat?”

“The powers chose you, you cannot turn back now.”

“Pretty sure I just did.”

“Why would you reject such a gift?”

“Because Uliana can track morphers,” Brock said, and pointed at it again. “So I basically just put a big flare on myself for her. And I’d like to take it off.”

“She cannot track these morphers,” Soloz said. “I have shielded them.”

Brock gave him a glare. “The old Power Rangers said that, too,” he replied, firmly. “And now they’re all dead.”

There was a pause. Soloz’s face grew stern, and he said, at last, “So you turn your back. So be it.”

“Great, now get this-”

“No,” Soloz said, firmly. “I will not.”

Brock almost snarled something in a rage, but he held his tongue. “Okay,” he said, after a pause. “Then how can I get it off?”

“Find me a new Red Ranger, and I will transfer it,” Soloz replied, and the contempt in his voice was not hidden. “I need a team to fight Uliana. You will find them. Then I will release you.”

“You promise?” Brock asked. It wasn’t a good compromise, but it would do.

“I promise, on the Grid itself, that I will hold to my word,” Soloz replied, and looked right at Brock as he said it.

Brock sighed, glanced at the morpher, then at Soloz. He read his face closely, as much as one could read a projection of a face on a wall. He couldn’t be certain, but he didn’t think he was lying. 

_Than again, if he was, what could I even do?_ Brock thought, then looked back to him.

“Fine, you have a deal,” he said. “I’ll get you a team of Power Rangers, you get this thing off me so I can go back to being a runner. Agreed?”

Soloz’s face was disappointed and angry, and he said nothing for a moment, but then. “Agreed.”

\--

Beacon City grew closer as the hours ticked on, agonizingly slow, Brock walking the full distance. His body still ached from his fight, but it was already recovering, aside from the few decades old wounds that never quite healed. Grid energy had knitted a few of the fresh wounds back together. One of the perks of being a Ranger.

Eventually, he arrived at the gates. A line extended out of the one gate in the fifteen foot high grey walls. All sorts of men and women shuffled about in the queue, some holding something, some holding nothing. A city security guard at the gate waved wands over their bodies as they entered, flagging identification.

 _God I need some food,_ he thought, as he got to the back.

The line ticked on, for over an hour, and Brock felt a little smile creep up on his face when he saw the woman and child from earlier, the ones he rescued from Crowblow, pass through. They were sent through to another room, to be added to the long line of people awaiting city identification. But at least they would be fed, sheltered, and safe.

Brock’s turn finally came. He stepped up, pack in his hand.

“Hey, Brock,” the c-sec soldier said.

Brock didn’t recognize him. “Hey,” he said, as he held his arms out. 

“James,” the c-sec replied. He waved the wand around his head, then over his arms, then over his torso. “I’ve checked you through a few times.”

“Oh, right,” Brock replied, and his arms went out. “How’s the family?”

“Still divorced,” James replied. 

Brock didn’t speak for a moment. “Ah,” he said at last. “Right.”

Eventually, the guard waved him through. And in perfect time, as Brock’s stomach growled audibly as he entered the city.

Beacon City did its best to keep things clean, but an overstuffed population and an influx of refugees had taken it from the peak of its time after the fall. During the time when monster attacks and clayheads ran amok, cities scrambled to erect barriers. A lot of people were killed, and after The Gold Empire fell, when the Rangers had their final fight, there was a moment of peace when it all stopped. The people moved quickly, erecting walls and reinforcing the cities. It saved a lot of lives.

But that was 15 years ago. Things got harder since then. There were a lot of homeless people. There was a lot of trash in the streets. Filth built up on the decayed pavement. The smell of human odor filled the air. It was miserable, and Brock moved through without looking, as he did every time, with every city.

 _Guess I’m gonna be here a while though,_ he thought. _Being the Red Ranger and all._

He eventually got out of the slums, and made his way into a slightly nicer district, where the streets were a little cleaner and there were less homeless people. The smell of noodles and fried food filled his nose, and he made his way over to a seat at a diner.

The waiter came over, nodding at him.

“Gimme the noodle bowl and some of the fried beef,” Brock said, and shelled out a couple bills and slapped them on the counter.

“No fried beef,” the waiter said, not bothering to look him in the eyes. “You get pork.”

“I don’t want-” Brock started, but gave up, and nodded. “Fine.”

A few minutes later, the bowl slid across to him, and he wasted no time forking it into his mouth. 

“Smuggler?” the waiter asked, as he cleaned up the place next to him.

Brock gave an inhale through his nose as he quickly chewed, and swallowed just enough to say, “Runner.”

“Legal smuggler, then,” the waiter said.

The Ranger gulped down his food. “I don’t come to your work and hassle you about your career choices,” Brock said, with a grumble. “Or do you want me to lecture you about staying in school?”

The waiter let out a small ‘hmm’ and kept wiping at the counter. Brock took the small victory and kept eating. 

There was silence, and the waiter again spoke up. “So, what are you running to Beacon City? Or, out of it?”

“Money,” Brock said, irritably. “A big bag of it. Why do you care?”

The waiter sighed, and walked off. “Fine,” he said, with a shrug. “Was my boss’s idea, talk to the customers…”

He grumbled to himself as he walked off, at last leaving Brock alone with his meal. He took another mouthful of noodles, and absently turned his foot in place to touch his bag. It didn’t hit anything.

“Mm?” he mumbled, turning his head. His bag was gone. And it had the crate in it.

His eyes flicked around, and he saw someone running, bag clutched in their hand.

Brock let out a loud swear that was muffled by the food in his mouth, pushed himself from the counter, broke into a sprint.

His leg ached and every stomp sent jolts up his aching back, but he didn’t dare stop as he chased. The figure had yanked the backpack on, and slid to a halt, thinking they were in the clear, and turning behind to give a quick glance back -- and a young woman’s face landed on Brock, in full pursuit. A sweep of blonde hair peeked out under a hoodie, and blue eyes widened as she saw him.

“Get back here!” he shouted.

She bolted. 

The woman sprung through crowds, hard shoving people and jumping over objects in her way like carts or debris. She was spry, and fast, and Brock’s body was not holding up, every part of it screaming for relief, as he was in hot pursuit. But he couldn’t let the bag go.

She juked down an alley and began to climb a ladder, heading for a roof. Brock glanced up, then around, and had an idea.

He ignored the ladder, and took a few steps down the alleyway, where nobody looked, and he shoved the sleeve of his jacket up his arm, gripping the small nub on the morpher at his wrist.

_“Red mandrill -- jungle power!”_

Red energy engulfed him, and his steps were lighter, and faster, and suddenly he was zipping past people, who only glanced up in time to see a red streak and wonder what they just saw. And as he moved, he counted, _Three, four, five, six…_

At ten, he skidded to a halt, crouched low, and jumped into the air as high as he could. He whipped past the windows, and just in time, willed away his Ranger powers as he touched down.

By the time he hit the roof, the woman bumped into a very annoyed Brock, and she let out a shriek of surprise and fell back, fist coming up.

“Give me -- woah!” Brock yelled as he suddenly dodged a punch aimed right for his head.

Brock took a step to the side, clearing some space to level out his stance, and she swung a kick right for his midsection. He blocked it, and stepped in, planning on grabbing at the backpack strap, but she deftly smacked it away with a quick forearm block.

She was trained. Brock hadn’t expected that.

Her fists were up tight around her face, and she shot out for two quick jabs, which he blocked. She was feeling him out, Brock could tell. He didn’t want to hurt her, so he kept the defense up, watching her move, waiting for the big hit.

It came soon, as her leg suddenly lashed out for a sweep for his inner leg. He raised his foot enough to let it cleanly sweep by, and she followed up with a hard chop to his neck. He blocked it with his forearm, and took a step in, reaching for the bag again.

Brock’s fingers connected, and he tugged on the strap -- and her fist took a quick jab at his bicep, stunning him before he could grab it. 

_Crap,_ Brock thought again. _She’s fast. I have to take her down._

He ducked under a wide haymaker, stepped to the left right as another punch shot for his face, and decided he had enough; at once, Brock stepped to the side, grabbing the arm and yanking it towards him, leg coming out to trip her. She let out a yelp as she was sent to the ground, and Rocky wasted no time as he gripped her wrist, rotating it enough to lock it in place, and brought his arm down on the back of her neck, pressing just enough to hold her down.

She was scraped up, but she wasn’t hurt. And Rocky held her there a second, only their mutual breathing filling the air after the struggle.

“You gonna keep being a pain in the ass?” Brock asked, when he had enough air to speak.

The woman paused, and then after a second, gave a sigh and opened her free hand up in defeat. “Alright,” she said. “Alright, you got me.”

Brock hesitated, weighing his options, then slowly climbed off her, keeping one hand on the backpack as he did. The woman stood, and gave a little shrug as her hands came up. Brock pulled the backpack off her. As he did, he noticed the muscles along her back and arms. She was in terrific shape.

Feeling a bit awkward, he shouldered the bag, and said, “Thanks.”

“You could repay me with some food,” she said, her voice dry.

Brock sized her up. She was pretty, but some years of hard living had clearly worn her down. She couldn’t be much older than 20, but she looked aged beyond her years. As such she had cute cheekbones and pretty blue eyes, but her hair was a short messy mop and her eyes had deep bags. She was also filthy, no doubt from living on the street.

“You’re homeless?”

“Have been for six years,” she said.

“What’s your name?”

“Kay,” she said, and folded her arms. “Why, what’s it to you?”

“Why aren’t you a runner?” he asked, pointing at her. “You’re quick on your feet. And in good shape. You could handle bandits or clayheads pretty well.”

“Need supplies to run from city to city,” she replied. “I don’t have cash for that.”

“Hmm,” Brock said, and tugged the backpack on tight. “You ever talk to Ziggs?”

“No,” she said, and peered at him. “Who’s that?”

“Friend of mine, in the runner business,” he said. “You ask him to sponsor you and I bet he’d sign up. Tell him Brock sent you. He’s over on third, with the runner’s office.”

“Oh,” Kay said, and her shoulders relaxed. “Uh, thanks.”

“Sure,” he said, and turned in place. “I got a delivery to make.”

“Yeah,” Kay said, and gave him a little wave. “Uh, bye. I guess.”

Brock spent a few minutes getting to the ladder, leaving Kay on the roof alone. He had gotten not a dozen feet away before he had a sudden realization.

 _Ahhhh, crap,_ he thought, and put a hand to his forehead. _She could have been a Ranger._

It was too late though -- the mysterious Kay was no longer on the roof, and he doubted he would see her again. 

“Man,” he muttered, and his hand went into his pocket -- where he discovered his wallet was missing.

Brock gave a heaving sigh of frustration, head rolling back, as he looked into the sky and gave a little nod, and he said, “Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

\--

Hundreds of miles away, deep in the castle in the center of the mountains, a woman stood before a crystal orb the size of a small car. She was whispering incantations into it, fingers making tiny gestures that drew glowing symbols in the air. 

She was young, no more than in her twenties, red hair laced with streaks of inhuman gold strands. Her black eyes gazed into the shifting white of the orb’s sands, watching as the glow passed by. Her dress, red with gold accents, little bits of jewelry dangling from her arms and fingers, shimmered in the light.

The room was dense with all sorts of objects of mystical power -- baubles, trinkets, masks, swords, crowns, crystals. They bounced the low white light that radiated from the globe she ran her hands over, fingers dancing. Her brown eyes reflected the glow as she kept at her whispers, smiling as she saw the orb dance and react to her hands and words.

Behind her, a staircase extended up into the light, and footsteps came down them. They clanked heavily, metal boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud, joints creaking.

“Emissary,” the armored figure said, in a voice that was muffled from behind a metal grate.

Uliana did not turn. “I am busy, my Knight,” she said, sharply. 

The Knight stood eight feet tall and covered in bronze and copper accented armor. A sword hung at his hip, held to no sheath, a blade of black and dark red. At the tip, a small hook jutted out, curled down. His face was covered, but a look into the eye slit would offer nothing but blackness. There was no ‘person’ within. 

“Forgive me, Emissary,” he said, and gave a curt bow. “But I have grave news. Clayhead soldiers at the mountain range near Beacon City have gone missing. Scouts report that they have been smashed to pieces.”

“Indeed,” she replied, eyes not looking up.

The Knight paused, and added, “We have reason to believe it was a Power Ranger.”

“Mmm,” Uliana replied, nodding. Her fingers kept dancing. 

The Knight said nothing, then more urgently added, “We should move to make plans, milady, if the Power Rangers have returned.”

“I am aware of the Red Ranger,” Uliana said, and gestured to the orb, turning to meet him at last. “What else do you think this is?”

He looked to the orb, and watched the shifting sands, then at the dot of red inside of it, hidden like a diamond in a desert. “I...do not know, Emissary,” he replied. “I am only the Knight of Doors. Magic is new to me.”

“And that’s why I keep you around,” she replied, with a flirtatious smile, and took a few steps away to snatch up her scepter, which had been laid on the floor next to the orb. “Sometimes it helps to have a removed perspective on things.”

“I am happy to be of service to the Throne,” the Knight said, and his voice was tinted with confusion.

“And bless you for it,” she said, and gestured out. Her staff glinted in the light of the magical object, a common copper pole fused with gold and rubies at the end, forming a kind of crude crescent shape.

They walked together through the halls of the castle, which were mostly empty, save for dusty and unkempt decorations of gold and red. They left her inner sanctum, where all of her magical relics and objects lay, and walked up the stairs, heading into the main lobby.

Clayheads with armor -- clayknights, as Uliana called them -- stood at attention. Slightly smarter and tougher than the regular ones, they were loyal to the end, and snapped to attention as the two passed. The Knight of Doors kept quiet as he walked, knowing she would speak soon.

Eventually, they came to the throne room. There was only one chair, at the top of a staircase, and Uliana walked to the top, coming to a comfortable seat in it.

“Worry not about the Rangers, my Knight,” she said, patting the air. “We have dozens of relics in here, from the years before the The Gold Empire fell. I can spin up any number of monsters, and an infinite number of clayheads. The Rangers are accounted for.”

“That seems unwise, milady,” the Knight replied. “The Rangers returning would be disastrous for your rule.”

“They would indeed,” Uliana said, with a smile. “But whenever there is darkness, there are always Rangers. That has been the law of the universe since before you or I were born.”

The Knight said nothing. “Then you have a plan?”

“I always have plans, Knight,” she said, and settled back, reaching into her pocket and taking up a small orb, which looked similar to compressed coal. Uliana rolled this over her fingers a moment, gazing into it. “Such as this. I need to know if the Red Ranger is in Beacon City.”

“Then...you will send a monster?” the Knight asked. He sounded relieved. 

“Of course, with some clayheads,” she purred, and stood, waving her scepter around with the other hand. She began to speak in tongues, and energy radiated from her fingertips.

The castle around the two shifted, and slowly the roof above opened up, showing starlight and the clear night sky. Uliana reached up, and allowed the starlight to touch the orb in her grip. She whispered to it, and red magic sparkled from the scepter into her grip, and the starlight that stretched out from above began to brighten.

“Starlight, power my whims,” she whispered, as it rose from her fingertips.

The rock glowed, and she let it hang in the air a moment before she gripped her scepter, and pointed with it.

“Go,” she said, and a crackle of lightning arced from the tip. “Attack Beacon City! Draw out the Red Ranger!”

And she paused, giving a smile, as she said, “I want to see what he’s capable of.”

\--

Brock left the runner’s depot later that day, a wad of bills in his hand -- he counted them out, with a frustrated look on his face. He had taken a cut, of course, thanks to all the damage from Crowblow and clayheads. The day was already bad, and not looking to be any better now that he also lost his wallet.

 _Just be glad the guy recognized you,_ he thought to himself, sliding the loose bills into his pocket. _If I needed an ID I’d have been screwed._

Brock was ready to find a place to stay, get some rest, and plan his next move. He had to find some Rangers to recruit. He needed to get back to Soloz and see about a way to prepare the base to be ready for them to train and prepare in. He still hadn’t fully explored the Ranger powers, either. 

An explosion in the distance jarred him out of his thoughts -- he jumped, whipping around, making a gasp as he did. Smoke rose from a building nearby, and he heard murmurs and whispers nearby of some sort of object falling from the sky.

 _It’s probably fine,_ he thought, not believing himself. _It probably is just an accident._

Screams were coming from the spot. People were running. There was another crash.

_It...it probably isn’t a monster. No reason to jump to conclusions._

From the spot, he heard a snarl that turned into a roar. It sounded like Crowblow. Which meant it was a monster.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Brock muttered, as he started running to the spot, rolling his sleeve up his arm, and exposing his morpher.

~

_Twenty minutes ago..._

The park was one of the nicest areas of Beacon City, and it was an easy morale boost for the people. Not much greenery existed anymore, especially not in the desert area outside the walls and certainly not in the concrete jungle within. The park came out of that.

Gardeners working for the city tended to flower beds, concrete walkways cutting through trees and brush, and grassy areas that were a favorite spot for picnics. A fountain spewed recycled water out in the center, adding moisture to a terribly dry afternoon. And, on just the outskirts, sitting at a bench, holding sandwiches, were two young men.

The teenager swallowed a mouthful of food and said, to his brother, “So, now what?” 

“What do you mean, ‘now what’?” the taller one, Nate, said. He was a little burlier, and a little older, with black hair and brown eyes. He was lean, with his shirt taut around a muscular chest and biceps. He sat on the bench’s arm, sandwich in his hand, and he reached down to take another bite while his brother answered. 

Allen looked a lot like his brother, but he was smaller, and a little more thin, and his black hair was clipped a little shorter. And while his brother held his head high, Allen’s eyes often glanced down, and away, as he did as he said, “I mean, we need jobs. And runners won’t take us because we’re too young.”

“I know, I know,” Nate said, with a sigh, and took the last bite of his sandwich, throwing the wrapper in the trash. “I have a plan.”

Allen let out a breath of relief. “Thank God,” he muttered. “I don't want to get thrown out of our house.”

Allen’s eyes scanned the area. They were sitting in a food court and market, with little custom shops sprawled out selling whatever wares they could muster. Dozens of people were milling about, with food or otherwise. There was even one pretty girl at a hastily-assembled shop selling custom jewelry created out of junk. He scanned his eyes around -- a black teenager sitting at a bench was bent over a book, adjusting some oversized glasses on his face.

“We won’t,” Nate said, conclusively. “It’ll be fine. I’m going to apply at c-sec.”

“City security?” Allen said. “Oh, that’s perfect. They’ll totally take us.”

Nate didn’t hide his snort of laughter. “Us?” he asked, and glanced at his brother, giving him a playful shove in his arm. “I don’t think they’d be too interested in someone scrawny like you.”

Allen deflated. “Oh,” he said. He sounded resigned. “Yeah.”

“Besides,” Nate continued, without a pause. “You gotta be eighteen. You’re still too young.”

“I’ll try next year, then,” Allen replied, a little more eagerly.

“And I’ll help you put on some muscle,” he teased.

Allen didn’t even flinch at the cut. “Sure,” he said, and smiled weakly. “Thanks, man.”

“Anything, little brother,” Nate replied. “But we’ll see if we can get you work somewhere else.”

“I’m gonna need something, yeah. Becau-”

He was cut off as there was an explosion just near them, causing both men to jump to their feet. Smoke was everywhere, and for a moment, it was nearly impossible to see as it dissipated. A colossal boulder, craggy and black, had slammed into the center of the park, shattering the concrete and sending debris everywhere.

“What the hell is-” Nate started, but then the boulder moved.

Pieces of it snapped out, then a large chunk raised, and suddenly, it had arms and legs, and stood, roaring as it did. Spikes jutted out of its core, wrist, and back, and he stood to full height.

Screams echoed out as people fled. Nate and Allen both lurched back, in shock. 

“The Emissary of Gold has sent _Meteortite_ ,” the monster roared, in a gravelly voice, and he beat his chest to make the point known. “To _claim_ this city, for the Golden Empire!”

Nate’s fists shot up, in a fighting stance, as did Allen’s.

“I thought monsters couldn’t get inside the barrier!” Allen yelled, to his brother.

“Guess the Emissary pitched this one over the fence,” Nate said, and took a step forward. “Go, I got this!”

“But-” Allen started, but his brother had already jumped in.

Allen turned, and saw the pretty girl from before, with blonde hair cut in a bobcut, running out of her booth, screaming to the people, “Go! Go! To the gates! C-sec will be here soon!”

Nate took quick strides over to the rock monster, and with a loud yell, jumped into a snap kick that he planted right in Meteortite’s chest. Pain lanced up his leg as his foot smashed right into solid wall, and the thing laughed.

“You’ll need something stronger than that!” he laughed, and with a swing of his stubby arm, Nate was thrown aside, smashing into a table and rolling off of it with a pained grunt.

“Nate!” Allen shouted, but his brother was already on his feet. 

Nate looked mad, and he reached up to whip his coat off, fists coming up again. Meteortite let out a snarl, and curled up. For a second, it looked like he was becoming a ball once more, but spikes jutted out of his back and arms, and they began to sizzle with heat.

Nate’s expression went from fury to fear as he realized what the monster was doing. At once he sprung over the table, kicking it down and taking cover.

Allen turned, and saw the black boy from earlier, the one with frizzy hair, book on the ground, totally frozen up. He stared at the monster blankly, and his hands shook.

“Get _down!_ ” Allen shouted, and sprung on the boy, tackling him to the ground.

Spikes went everywhere, burrowing themselves into wood and concrete and walls alike. One of the food court buildings, stretching a good twenty feet into the air, crumpled under the damage and collapsed, nearly crushing two people who were cowering nearby. The girl from earlier swung by, grabbing them by the arms, and yanking them away, yelling and pointing. 

Nate gave an open stare to a spike that was halfway burrowed into the ground near his leg -- and next to his head, a smoking hole in the wooden table.

Meteortite let out a laugh. “I got them softened up!” he shouted, with a laugh. “Now let’s have some fun!”

His hand went back, and grey balls were thrown into the air, two, three, four handfuls. They hit the ground, and began to shape, and expand, turning humanoid within moments.

“Clayheads,” Allen said, and turned to the boy he saved. “Go! Get out of here! Quick”

“Th-the gate!” the boy suddenly shouted. 

Allen glanced at him, on one knee, half on his way to help his brother. “What gate?”

“There’s -- there’s a security gate!” the boy said, shoving his glasses up. “With a lever! They put security there in case of clayheads! And there’s only one way in and out of the park!”

“Then go!” Allen said. “Go, get the girl, get everyone out and lock the door when they’re safe!”

“But-” the boy said, but he cut him off.

“Go!” he said again. “I’ll hold the monster off! You have to get the gate closed!”

That prompted him to move; he jumped up and scampered away.

Allen turned, and saw his brother was squaring off with the monster -- and it was going badly, as Meteortite had caught his wrist and was raising a hand up to strike him. He thought quickly, reaching down to snag a chunk of shattered concrete, and chucked it at him, as hard as he could. 

Meteortite turned, letting out a snarl, and it gave Nate the second he needed to escape from his grip, ducking low and jumping away from the orb-like monster.

“Hey!” Nate snapped. “I had him!”

~

“Run!” Jessie shouted, pointing. “Get out, c-sec will be here soon, get to shelter!”

Jessie’s black hair was whipping around her face as she ran, double checking down crevices and corners to see if anyone was hiding or cowering. She was a very pretty teenager, with large eyes and a cute smile, but close observation made clear that a lot of makeup was covering up little blemishes and pock marks on her skin.

She was in good shape, but she was a little small, and had no real muscle to speak of, and she gave little curses as she ran. 

_Why did I have to wear these shoes today,_ she thought, huffing. _Why did a monster have to attack when I was wearing my height shoes?_

Jessie looked around again, checking for more people, and giving one last look of sadness at her shop display. All of the hours of hard work turning scrap metal into accessories and polishing it until it shone, utterly smashed to pieces by the monster. Her heart fell, and she swallowed the anger as she turned back to the crowd, ushering people along.

A teenager was running up to her, a black kid with thick glasses. He was gaunt, and tall, but fairly unremarkable otherwise, wearing baggy clothes that seemed to cover up some of his unevenly distributed weight. His hair was frizzy and unkempt.

 _Needs to comb and trim it,_ Jessie thought out of impulse.

He skidded to a halt before her, out of breath, and shouted, “Gate!”

Jessie blinked at him. “I -- the what?”

“The -- the gate!” the boy said. “There’s a panel, over -- right here! I mean, I’m Blaire, and-”

He pointed, and there was a box jutting out of the walls. “That,” he said. “It’s a lever! It’s something c-sec invented to contain clayheads!”

“Clay-” she started to say, and looked over, only to see the grey shapes starting to form. “Oh. Oh no.” There was a pause, and she turned back to him. “Go for it!”

“Uhm,” he said, awkwardly, and took a glance around. “I’m...but…”

Blaire’s hesitation was enough to spur Jessie. She sprinted towards it, Blaire following her, until they reached the box -- and saw a lock on the side. It was stuck.

Jessie wasted no time in snatching up a nearby chunk of concrete, hefting it with both hands. It tipped her over for a second as she raised it up, then smashed it down as hard as she could against the box. It dented, and she swung again. After five hits, the box cracked, and swung open. Inside -- just as Blaire said -- was a lever. However, in her swing, she had also bashed it apart, and the thing dangled off the hinge, totally broken. 

“I -- oh, I’m,” Jessie blurted, and put her hands to her mouth. “Oh crap.”

“Oh no,” Blaire said, and his hands came to his head. “Oh no oh no, no no this is bad, that was the only box!”

“Can you...do anything?” Jessie asked, glancing back at the clayheads. They were starting to move, and the two teenagers were scrambling to keep away from the monster, juking and jumping away, staying out of its range.

“I...I mean,” Blaire said, awkwardly. “I could try to hotwire it…”

“Hotwire?” Jessie asked, hope in her chest.

“I mean, my dad knows their tech,” he said, with a little glance at the ground. “It’s stupid, I know, I-”

“That’s -- that’s great!” Jessie said. “Try!”

Blaire hesitated, and his arms tensed, totally frozen again, staring at the panel.

“You have to try!” Jessie said. “They’re coming, and people could get hurt! _We_ could get hurt!”

“I…” Blaire didn’t speak for a second, but reached his hands out to the lever, and fished his fingers into the box. “I’ll...do my best.”

It took a few moments as he fished the wires out, but once he started working, he started to speed up. There was a little shakiness in his hands, but he tugged wires free, pulled them apart with his fingers, and began to tap them together. Moments passed, and Jessie gave him an anxious stare, hands clenching at the air as she looked between the clayheads growing and him.

There was a spark, and suddenly machinery let out a powerful _chu-BANG!_

“Did...did you-” Jessie started to say.

She was cut off as the ground next to her split, and a metal wall shot up, with a metallic scream, and lurched as old gears and cogs moved. Both of them made tiny gasps and jumped away as it moved past them, up, up, up, until it banged into place at the height, matching the height of the fifteen foot walls next to it on either side.

“You did it!” Jessie shouted, and grabbed his arm excitedly. And then her heart fell. “That...that was the only way out.”

“Yeah!” Blaire said, a big smile on his face. The smile slowly faded, and he said. “Oh...right.”

~

One clayhead belted Allen right in the gut, and he crumpled in pain, trying to get his wind back, just as another one grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him away with inhuman strength. Nate, nearby, was faring no better, landing a solid kick right at clayhead stomach, but it kept coming at him and smacked him in the face, drawing a cut along his forehead.

Nate stumbled back, hands still up. “J-just go!” he shouted to Allen. “You’re just gonna get hurt!”

The monster laughed. “Go where?” he boomed, gesturing at them. “You’re trapped, just like-”

A red streak shot across the space in front of Nate, and the clayhead in front of him suddenly exploded into debris. 

“Wh-whuh?” the monster yelled.

Standing in front of Nate and Allen was a Red Ranger, slowly rising up to his full height.

The suit seemed stretched over a broad chest and a powerful set of arms, and the Ranger gave a slow exhale as he stood. A blade clutched in his right hand lazily dragged on the floor, and he took a step forward to raise the blade up. It was like a sword, but the blade was replaced by a giant drill, and the handle and hilt resembled a screaming monkey’s face.

“What?!” Meteortite yelled. “A Power Ranger?! I thought-”

“Yeah,” Brock said, and he crouched. “They always ‘thought.’”

He then took two quick strides forward, blade cutting into the air, and sliced apart two clayheads in front of him. The blade didn’t hesitate a second as it cut through them, as though they weren’t there at all, but the only proof it made contact was the gibberish noises they made as they fell apart to the ground, and went inert. 

“Go! Get him!” the monster yelled, and the dozens of clayheads descended.

Brock sighed, and brought the sword to bear. “When will they learn?” he asked, with a snort. 

He moved forward and made a lunging motion with his sword up, and speared the tip right through one’s face, causing it to crumble, before whipping in a quick circle and slashing in the air. Brock missed, but it wasn’t for long, as he only had to advance a step further, and slice again, from low to high, and it cut the thing in two. He jumped forward with two more powerful steps and ran one through -- he exploded into clay fragments all around him.

Brock turned his head, and saw the two teenagers staring at him.

“Do you need a map or something!” he yelled, and pointed. “Get out of the way!”

Allen obeyed, scampering aside. Nate hesitated, his fat lip pressed into a line of frustration, before he followed suit.

 _Kids,_ he thought, and kept at the fight.

Blaire and Jessie were running over at that moment, and they skidded to a halt as Allen and Nate came to them.

“What hap- oh jeez,” Jessie said, and leaned into Nate as she saw the massive bruise to the side of his face, and the cut at his temple. “Are you okay? You need medical-”

“I’m fine,” Nate said, and turned back to the fight. “We should just leave. You guys aren’t safe here. The-”

“We can’t,” Blaire said. “The gate’s up. Only way in or out.”

“Well,” Nate said, and gave a huff. “I guess...we just watch the show.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Allen said, and his voice was gleeful, even despite the black eye that was swelling up. “Power Rangers haven’t been seen for a decade, and look!”

The Red Ranger was decimating the clayheads, and even Nate was having a hard time denying it wasn’t an incredible sight. The way he moved wasn’t smooth, but his hits and cuts were landing perfectly, exploding the grunt monsters without even trying. It was awe inspiring.

And then, Meteortite shot a spine at him.

It hit home, right into the small of his back, and even through the protection the Ranger power offered, pain new and old exploded through his whole body. He let out a yell of pain, and the sword went flying out as he hit the ground. It felt like he was cut in half, and only the sensation of his legs twitching told him he was in one piece.

 _Oh no,_ Brock thought, as he struggled to move. His legs weren’t working quite right, and his arms were tensed up. His back was acting up again. _Oh god damn this old body…_

A clayhead kicked him, and he let out a cough, and managed to roll to the side to cover himself. HIs head turned -- four teenagers stared at him, in shock, in horror. Four teenagers who were alone, with him, and the monsters.

 _Oh to hell with it,_ he thought. _Close enough._

His hand reached back, and brought out four morphers. 

“Catch!” he yelled, and pitched them as hard as he could at the four.

The devices hit the ground, and Allen quickly collected them. He stood, staring at the black devices, with streaks of blue, yellow, green, and grey running through them. 

Brock’s arms were covering him enough to block a few stray hits coming from clayheads. He spun in place, grabbed the leg of one, and threw him sideways. His lower back screamed in pain, but he ignored it as he rolled to his stomach and got to his knees. 

“Put them on!” he yelled.

The other three grabbed one each, and Allen got a twist in his gut of excitement. “Oh man,” he said, as he tugged the green-streaked morpher onto his wrist. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

As the strap tightened on his wrist, a bolt of green electricity shot up his arm, to his head, and his eyes flashed green. 

_May the power of the jungle course through you, wielder of the viper’s cunning,_ a voice in his head spoke, deep and booming. _Now pull the lever, strike your fist into the air, and cry out for jungle power!_

He looked around, at his brother and the other two teenagers, and their expression said that they saw exactly what he saw. He gave an excited little shiver in place as he raised his fist up, tugged the lever, and struck his fist into the air. Knowing what they had to do, the others did the same, in tandem with Allen.

_“Green viper -- jungle power!”_

Nate’s fist went up. _“Black elephant, jungle power!”_

Jessie screamed, _“Yellow croc, jungle power!”_

Blaire’s hands shook as he shouted, _“B-blue eagle, jungle power!”_

Power spiraled out of their fists, and enveloped them, and when the energy cleared, four Power Rangers stood where they once did.

“Augh, no!” Meteortite shouted. “Not more!”

Allen stared at his hands, and let out an audible gasp. “Oh my god!” he shouted, gleefully. “I’m...I’m a Power Ranger! I’m actually a Power Ranger!”

“Woahhh,” Blaire marveled, touching his chest. “This is...weird.”

Jessie touched her helmet, then at her arm. “Awww,” she muttered. “I was hoping for pink…”

Nate’s fist tightened before him. “I feel...amazing. This is incredible.”

Allen’s head came up, and he pointed. “Help the Ranger!”

“Glad you noticed,” Brock said, still on the ground.

Nate and Allen took to it instantly, jumping into the fray and making powerful and perfectly aimed strikes right at the clayheads. Nate’s fist smashed into one and blew it to pieces, and he gave a satisfied yell of triumph. 

“I’m so strong,” he growled, and his fingers clenched. “This power is incredible.”

Allen, nearby, made a leap into the air, making a good ten foot high jump, and spun into a spin kick that sent a clayhead whirling away, shattering him as soon as he hit another one just behind him. 

“The proper word is ‘morphenominal!’” Allen said.

Nate gave a groan. “You’re a child, I swear,” he said, and went back into the fray.

~

“No no no _no!_ ” Meteortite shouted, watching the Rangers rush against his clayheads. “I can’t allow this! The Emissary sent me for a reason!” 

His arms went down, and spikes bulged out of his back and shoulders. They began to sizzle as the heat radiated, in preparation for firing. “Then I’ll have to kill them here and now!”

A red movement was in the corner of Meteortite’s vision. HIs eyes looked over -- the Red Ranger was in the air again, blade gripped in both hands, and he let out a shout of, “Yeah, no!” 

The blade came down, and sparks exploded everywhere. The blade kicked in Brock’s hands as it bit into the thing’s exterior, and he saw it only chip away at some of the rocky exterior. He wasn’t hurting him. _Holy hell this guy is tough._

Meteortite snarled, and spun in place, just as spikes shot from his back. Brock brought the drillsword before him, arms crossed, and there was a bang as he felt a spike smash into the blade. He felt himself slide back in the ground as the impact hit him, and it was a moment before he was stable again.

 _Can’t let him get any distance on me,_ Brock thought, as he brought the sword back to bear and took another few steps forward. _Can I power this sword up or something? I need to crack his armor!_

He swung, and swung, and the sword bucked out of his grip over and over, and Meteortite cackled. “Going to have to try harder than that!” he shouted, and swung at Brock.

Brock deftly juked, blade kept between him. “And you’re going to have to be faster!” 

~

Two clayheads rushed at Blaire, and he gave a frightened yelp and jumped away, muttering a timid, “G-get away from me!” as he fled.

They kept in pursuit, even as he sprung over a table. Panicked, running out of options, he made a quick and clumsy kick for it. His foot cracked into the thing’s stomach, and he blinked as the clayhead crumpled to the ground, holding the spot in agony.

“Woah,” Blaire muttered, and glanced at his hand, then got a surge of confidence, and gave a wild, wide cowboy punch. It was horrible, and he landed mostly on his thumb, but the clayhead’s face exploded as it landed. 

“Woah!” he shouted, and there was confidence in his voice. “Cool!”

Jessie wasn’t trained, but she wasted no time jumping into the fray, swinging punches and kicks where she could land them. They didn’t always connect, but when they did, she was shocked to find just how much impact there was behind them. A kick to one clayhead’s leg sent it crumpling, and she made a couple quick punches at its face. It shattered, and she gave a little squeal.

“This _rules!_ ”

Though inexperienced, the four easily cut through the clayheads, thanks to the awesome powers that morphing provided them. Eventually, they were done, and they came to Brock’s aide as he squared off with the monster.

Nate noticed it immediately. “He’s in a stalemate,” he said, pointing.

“Thanks for noticing!” Brock shouted back, as he evaded a paw the size of a frying pan smashing his face in.

“What do you want us to do?” Allen shouted.

“I dunno! Just...stab him or something!” he barked, and let out a grunt as Meteortite’s paw clipped him in the shoulder.

Allen let out a frustrated sigh. “We don’t have weapons!” he said, and then realized something. “Wait, what if we-”

“Keep him exposed,” Nate said, nodding. “Yeah, just realized.”

Nate turned to the Blue and Yellow Rangers. “Try to draw his attention,” Nate said, pointing at them both. “Allen and I will grab his arms. When we do, you grab them too and help us keep them apart.”

“Why?” Jessie asked, then looked at the monster. “Oh! His armor, it doesn’t cover his belly!”

“Which means Red can cut him open,” Allen agreed. “We ready?”

Blaire, behind his Blue helmet, only gave a curt nod, quietly.

“Okay, then go!” Nate said, and Jessie turned and sprinted for Meteortite, Blaire in tow.

~

Brock wasn’t as agile or swift as he used to be, and even in Ranger form, he relied on a lot of brawn to finish fights quickly. He couldn’t be sure, but he imagined there was some sort of boosting effect, like his strength as a Ranger was based on his strength as a human, but augmented. Now that he had to keep close to the monster and chip away at him, he could feel his stamina draining.

He would swing, and the monster’s rocky exterior blocked it. His hands were starting to ache, his biceps hurt, and his legs were moving slower. He was getting very tired. And worse, the dull ache in his back was starting to tingle, indicating it was going to start flaring up again.

 _Come on,_ he growled, as he crouched low and cut deep, and was again blocked by Meteortite’s scaly arms. 

“Looks like you’re getting tired!” the monster laughed. “Sounds fine to-”

He was cut off as a powerful pair of kicks landed at his back. It didn’t hurt, but he did notice it, and he turned in place. A pair of Rangers were standing there, fists up. 

“Hands off him!” the yellow one shouted. 

“Not you two!” Meteortite growled, and curled his arms in as he mounted up a new pair of spikes coming from his back.

“Down!” Jessie shouted, and she shoved Blaire aside.

Spikes went everywhere, but thanks to jumping to the ground, they missed. Brock’s drillsword blocked one that shot towards him, and he felt his teeth rattle at the impact.

“The hell are you kids doing!?” 

“Saving your tail!” Jessie shouted, as she stood up. “Come on, you wanna push a Ranger around, you gotta take us too!”

“No, kid, you’re gonna-” Brock started to yell, but Blaire suddenly scrambled to Meteortite’s left and Jessie juked right, forcing the monster to follow one of them. He picked Blaire, and ran for him, which gave Jessie the opportunity to again kick him in his back. Meteortite snarled and whirled around. By that point, Blaire was at Brock’s side. 

“This isn’t a game,” Brock muttered, as he stood. But, even as he said it, he was grateful for the breather. His arms and legs were wobbly, but they didn’t give out.

“I, uhm, sorry,” Blaire muttered, looking down.

“I’m not,” Jessie added, as the monster took another step towards her. She dove away, right towards Brock’s side.

Meteortite snarled, and took a step forward -- and in tandem, Nate and Allen jumped in, snagging his arms. The monster let out a yell of surprise, and in perfect timing, Blaire and Jessie jumped forward and grabbed his biceps, helping to force them wide.

“Take the shot!” Nate yelled.

Brock had a moment’s pause as he realized what was going on, but when he did, he wasted no time, bringing the sword to bear. He focused, gripping the hilt tightly, and tried to grasp at that energy in his stomach that surged out of him whenever he morphed. 

_Come on,_ he thought, holding it out. _Do something good._

The sword began to hum, and glow, and he opened his eyes to see red lightning crackling down the end.

“Perfect,” he said, and charged forward.

“No!” Meteortite yelled, struggling to break free from the four Rangers that held him.

The energy crackled, surrounding Brock, and suddenly he wasn’t running anymore, he was a missile shooting through the air, sword held forward in a lunge. He shot into, through, and out the other side of Meteortite, until he skidded to a halt, dropping to one knee with the blade out.

The rock monster let out a yell of agony, and seized up, then went limp, and the four young Rangers jumped away just as he fell to the ground and exploded in a shower of sparks.

For a second, all Rangers waited, as if expecting something else to happen. But there was nothing other than eerie silence and the noise of rocky debris hitting the ground. Brock held his hand up over his head as gravel pelted his helmet.

At last, the Rangers all stood, and they came to Brock, fumbling with their helmets. Brock looked at the teenagers he had given this gift of power, and took a deep breath to stabilize himself.

Brock slowly removed his own helmet. It was stifling anyway. 

“So, uh,” the green Ranger said, awkwardly.

The one in black cut him off. “I’m Nate,” he said, and gestured to himself. “This is my brother Allen. I guess...we’re Power Rangers now?”

“You are,” Brock said, with a nod, and glanced at them. 

“I’m Jessie,” the girl in yellow said.

“Uh. Blaire.”

“Brock,” he said, and paused. “You know...none of you have to do this. You can just give me back the morphers.”

“You kidding?” Allen asked, with a scoff. He gave a little bounce in place, tightening his hands on his helmet. “You know how much I’ve wanted to be a Power Ranger? This is the best!”

“It’s dangerous, is what it is,” Brock said, and glanced at them. “You can just give me them back. You don’t have to stay.”

“I want to help,” Jessie said. Her eyes suddenly flashed in a realization, and she pointed back to the destroyed stand in the corner of the market. “Oh! Can I get my jewelry first though? What’s left, anyway?”

Blaire didn’t even meet Brock’s eyes, he was just kind of gazing into the ground, as if waiting to be instructed. He looked back to Nate, who’s gaze was the opposite. It was like he was directly challenging Brock with it, as if seeing who would blink first.

“Hm,” the Red Ranger said, and looked over them.

They were very unprepared. He could see Nate had an attitude problem, and an ego. Allen and Jessie looked like they didn’t understand a lick of how dangerous this whole Ranger thing was. Blaire couldn’t lift his eyes from his feet. They were no Rangers.

 _They’ll have to do,_ he thought, with a deep sigh. 

“Okay then,” he said, and gestured. “Come on. We have a lot to talk about.

\--

It was only an hour later, after c-sec managed to get the shield barrier down, and soon security was all in the park and market. It was a total mess -- stalactite-like spikes were buried in everything from the walls to stands to the park fountain and the concrete walkways. The benches were smashed to pieces, too. 

A burly, tall black man, with neatly clipped greying hair stood among the wreckage, hands slipped into the pockets of his slacks and looking down. His buttoned-up shirt was taut over his muscular frame, muscles bulging even in his age. A pin on his chest in silver read the label “COMMANDER ALEXANDER BLAKE.”

“A monster attack, huh Stern?” he asked, with a heavy sigh. 

A shorter, squatter man was next to him, one with a bit more of a gut and a pale complexion. He had a handlebar moustache and a large balding spot, and his thumbs hung out of the belt loop which held up his pants and his holster at his side. 

“First one in eight years,” Stern replied, and gave a short nod. He gestured with his digital tablet. “Some witnesses said it came from the sky, apparently. Said his name was ‘Meteortite’ I think.”

“Cute,” the black man said, with a snort. “A meteor. Real cute. Uliana must be feeling sassy.”

Stern lowered his hands. “Witnesses also said they saw a Power Ranger,” he added, and let it hang. “A red one.”

“I know,” Blake replied, and he wasn’t looking at him. “The last thing I need right now.”

“Eyewitness on top of that building,” Stern pointed. “Said that there was just one red one, then a little after, there were five.” There was a pause. “They didn’t have helmets, she said.”

“Security footage?”

“Checked,” he said, and pointed up, in the distance. “Look there.”

Blake did -- there was a security camera mounted on the wall, and right into the lens was a rocky spear the size of a railroad spike, splitting it in two. 

“That one got shot early, the Ranger showed up and he fired off a volley that landed there,” Stern said. “Rest are too far away or the wrong direction. Nothing usable.”

“Hm,” Blake said, and looked around, deep in thought.

“So then, now what?”

Blake took a breath, and looked around. “Increase security patrols,” he said. “Make sure our units are armed with X-rifles and suppressors. Instructions are to capture, not wound.”

Stern nodded, unflinched by the news. “You got it.”

“I want those Rangers apprehended, and brought to me,” he said, and looked at the place where the monster exploded, the scorched earth and damage done to the walkway. “Before they ruin anything else.”


	2. Teenagers With Attitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rangers make their first clumsy moves into defending the city -- with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few tweaks to the first chapter, as I accidentally uploaded an earlier version  
> \- the pink morpher in the cave was meant to be yellow  
> \- Nate and Allen weren't supposed to mention their parents for reasons that will become clear in this chapter

It took an hour long walk back out of the city, to the place where Brock found the morphers, but when he slipped down the hole and the rest of the teenagers went with him, he was surprised to find a much stronger light than the one before as he walked down the corridor. And by the time he got to the end, he came to a giant door, made of the same metal as the rest of the structure. 

“That’s new,” he said, touching it with his gloved hand. 

It slid open, and he was surprised to see the tiny alcove had been remade. Now, instead of the low blue hum of the screen that held Soloz’s face, the room was lit with proper lighting and the walls were of the same blue tinted metal as the door, replacing the cave walls. More computer panels had popped up, and there was even a screen on the far side, lit with a white light. Where the morphers had once rested, there were now weapons, hovering in the air in the dim light of their appropriate colors. 

And, especially surprising Brock, there were doorways on the far wall, and as he walked into the room he saw beds and nightstands, as well as a kitchen and a bathroom.

The blue wall shifted, and Soloz’s face appeared.

“Power Rangers!” he declared, and his voice sounded excited even through the deep crackle of the monitor’s speaker. “I am pleased to see Brock was successful in recruiting you.”

“Yeah, I was,” Brock said, pulling his helmet off and tucking it under his arm. “What’s...with the place?”

“I have been busy with accommodations,” Soloz replied. “As I understand it, humans need various needs filled. I have prepared accordingly. Your rooms will have furnishings and bedding.”

“Oh, terrific,” Brock said, and waved his hand once, turning in place. “Then I’m going to bed. I have had an incredibly long day.”

Red energy slowly melted off of his body as he walked off, until his normal clothes were where red weaved fabric once was. He waved a hand without turning around as he pushed his door open. “Goodnight, don’t come find me until morning.”

“What if there’s a monster attack?” Jessie asked.

“You heard me,” he replied.

“See you tomorrow,” Allen said. “Maybe then you can train us or we could work on some tact-”

Brock’s door was pushed shut.

“Uh, okay!” Allen said, to the door, and deflated, turning in place. “I mean...I guess he’s tired, so we'll see tomorrow, right?”

Jessie, holding her own helmet, was still looking up at Soloz. “So...who are you?” she asked, pointing. “Did…you give Brock the morphers?”

“Correct,” Soloz said, nodding. “I am Soloz, guardian of the Jungle Power. I tasked Brock to recruit five Power Rangers. Uliana, the Emissary of Gold, must be fought.”

Nate was standing by the weapons, reaching his fingers out to touch the black staff with the blunted end that gently bobbed in place over the black morpher space. He turned to Soloz at that. “Uliana?” he asked, looking up. “Is that the woman who is in charge of the monsters?”

“Correct,” Soloz replied. “It seems that she has taken notice of the Red Mandrill morpher being activated. That monster that attacked you in the city was not an accident.”

“Are....we in danger?” Jessie asked, and she looked worried.

“So long as you wear a morpher, you are in danger,” Soloz replied. “But the power of the Jungle is one of camouflage. I do not believe she is aware of you, or Brock, or this location.”

“You ‘do not believe’?” Nate repeated. “You want to double check?”

“My power is limited, Black Ranger,” Soloz said, patiently. “But I do not detect monsters or clayheads in the area. If Uliana can track these morphers, like she is rumored to, they would have been here already.”

“And if they do show up?”

“Nobody can enter the chamber without a Jungle morpher,” he said firmly. “I have total control over these premises.”

“What happens if they do get in?” Jessie asked. “Do you have guards, or anything?”

“I do,” Soloz said. “Yourselves.”

Jessie went to say something, but stopped halfway through. “That’s...actually a good point.”

Blaire was not speaking, his eyes gazing into the computer panels before him, admiring the buttons and levers, which glowed and lit up. It was some of the most advanced tech he had seen in his life, and awe was on his face as he ran his fingers over the buttons and touch screens.

Jessie stepped forward, placing her helmet on the terminal. “You mentioned this... Uliana,” she said, and waved her hand vaguely in the air. “Who is she? And what is she after?”

“I do not know, unfortunately,” Soloz said, and his head lowered. “She is from after my time. I have been hibernating for many years. I do not know what she wants.”

Nate had snatched up the black scepter, and he was starting to twirl it in both hands, his fingers effortlessly trading it back and forth as it spun in place. “That’s useful,” he grumbled. 

“She’s the Emissary of Gold,” Allen said, suddenly, and Nate gave a start at his brother. Jessie turned to face him too. 

He glanced at them, then back up to Soloz. “She’s the last leader of the Golden Empire, after the last Rangers killed the Queen. The empire was in tatters and she was the one who banded it together.”

Jessie gave him an impressed look. “How...do you know all that?” she asked, curiously.

Nate cut his brother off. “My brother’s a huge Rangers dork,” he said, and curled the staff under his arm. “You should see his bedroom when we were kids.”

Allen put his hand to his chin. “I _think_ the castle collapsed in the battle, and then Uliana put it back together…” he shrugged. “I can’t remember the specifics. Records are spotty.”

“Hm,” Nate said, and turned, again twirling his staff. “Say, big face guy, do your powers extend to providing us with some food?”

“It does indeed,” Soloz said.

Nate was so surprised he almost dropped the staff in his hands, and barely caught it as it tumbled free. “Wait, really?” he asked, eyebrows going up. “For real?”

“I have created a kitchen with a food fabricator,” he said. “It will sustain you as much as you need.”

“A food...fabricator?” Blaire asked, his jaw open. “You...you can do that?”

“Indeed, using the morphin grid and some of my own capabilities, I can provide basic food essentials and materials,” he paused. “There are some chemical and fabric compositions that are outside of my power, however.”

“Sweet,” Nate said, and walked right to the nearby kitchen.

“Hey, wait, I’m hungry too,” Allen said, and followed.

“Huh, now that you mention food...” Jessie said, and pushed her glove up to look at a watch that was mounted on her wrist. “Holy crap, it’s 5:30? Ahhh, damn it! My mom is going to _kill_ me.”

Blaire finally looked up also. “It’s past five?” he asked. “Oh no, I need to get home”

“You may stay here as long as you need,” Soloz said.

“No, I mean, we have to get back home, in the city,” Jessie said, urgently. “We can’t stay here.”

Soloz looked at her for a second. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You are the Power Rangers. This is your home now, is it not?”

“We’re teenagers!” Jessie protested. “We have parents! We need to go home to them so they know we’re not dead.”

Nate walked into the main room, holding a sandwich he was giving a suspicious look. It was loaded with meats and veggies, but the bread seemed slightly damp and some of the chicken appeared to be dripping. “Enggh,” he muttered, then glanced up. “I mean, we’ll stay. We don’t have a place to go. Hell, be saving us money by not having to rent an apartment.”

“So...you wish to return to the city, then?” Soloz said, and gave a pause, in thought. “Hmmm.”

“We...we can’t live here,” Blaire said. “I mean, I’m sorry, but we just can’t.”

The face looked down a moment, then up at them once more. “If you are in need of assistance,” Soloz said. “I have a solution.”

Blaire looked up. “How so?”

“Stand by,” he said, and his face slowly faded away.

There was a pause, and nothing happened. Jessie’s eyes looked around, waiting for something to happen. Allen walked out, a fizzy drink poured into a glass.

“What’s-”

Jessie shushed him at once.

The four stood in silence for a moment longer. Blaire broke the silence.

“Uhm...Soloz?” he asked, carefully.

“Wait…” Allen said, and tilted his head. “What’s that?”

Jessie almost asked what he meant, but then it came to her ears. It was a low rumbling, as if an earthquake in the far distance had started and was growing closer. It hurtled towards them all, barreling through until it was close enough that it was at a near cacophony. Suddenly, a loud ‘KTHOOM’ rang out, and they all gave little gasps as the ground beneath them shifted.

At the far wall, next to the panel where Soloz rested, a doorway molded itself, and a door slid open.

Soloz’s face reappeared again. “I have created a pathway to the nearby city,” he said. “There is an abandoned house you will exit from. You can return here from there. We will use your morphers to contact you if need be.”

“I, wow,” Jessie said. “Thanks, Soloz. That’s really useful.”

“I am here to assist you all, Rangers,” Soloz said, nodding. “But you must never tell another about your powers. That is the one condition of my assistance.”

Jessie squinted. “Why?” 

“Safety,” Soloz said. “And-”

The door to Brock’s room burst open, and he stumbled out, looking very asleep, morpher at the ready in his hand. “What happened?!” he yelled. “Where’s the monster!?”

-

Uliana sat on her throne, tapping her fingers as she looked at the space where Meteortite’s remains lay, in a smoking crater, and the decimated clayheads. The image was positioned far above the city, zoomed in like a camera, pointed at one specific space in the park. She saw the humans milling around, and made some mental notes.

“My lady,” the Knight said, his head bowed. “I share your frustration. Meteortite fell. He-”

“Of course he did,” Uliana said, with a wave of her hand. 

The Knight of Doors gave a pause. “”Did...you not want him to succeed?”

“It would have been nice,” she replied, and looked at her fingernails as if for emphasis. “But no, I had no delusions he would have been enough. As I said, I merely wished to know how capable this new Red Ranger was.”

“I see,” the Knight said, nodding. “So it was a test.”

“Never send your pawns out in your first move,” Uliana said, and tapped her temple. “And besides, look here.”

She gestured, and spoke a few words of power. The image before her changed, and it displayed the orb in the level below. The red light was not alone; four others swirled with it.

“The other Rangers have been activated?” 

“They have,” Uliana replied, with a nod. “Which makes things…” she hesitated, and clicked her fingernails against the arm of her chair. “Interesting.”

“Can you track them?”

“No,” she replied. “The Queen might have had that spell at one point, but I do not. But no matter,” she waved a hand. “I can make do. I need them out in the open, so I can defeat them…” she grinned. “Fortunate to us that they seem interested in this one city. I can use that.”

“Would it not be simpler to find them unprepared in their beds and execute them?” 

“Of course it would,” she replied. “But without a tracking spell, that won’t happen. I’m not sending dozens of monsters and hundreds of clayheads out to comb the desert and city to find where they are. I do not have limitless resources.”

“Emissary,” the Knight said, giving a bow. “Send me, I will destroy those Rangers.”

“No,” she said, sharply, and decisively. “You’re far too important for such trivial work.”

“The Rangers must be shattered,” the Knight said, stiffening. “There is no work more important!”

“There is work _far_ more important, my Knight,” she replied, and stood, walking towards him. She affectionately touched his shoulder, and moved past, beckoning as she did. “Come.”

He did, and they slipped down into the basement once more, where the shifting orb continued to slosh about, with the tiny five colored dots glowing in the center. His gaze fell on it as they walked by; black, yellow, blue, and green lights swirled in the center, right next to the red one.

She rifled through a drawer, shoving aside jewelry and baubles of all kinds, until her hands landed on a box -- it was entirely plain, and as she lifted it up, it rattled with the tinkle of glass and crystal from within.

Uliana turned, and pulled it open. Crystals, long and about the length of the finger, perfectly crafted, rested inside. The cut surfaces bounced the light from the orb, and glinted in the reflection towards the eyeholes in the Knight’s helmet. They were a deep purple, and in the core a dark swirl of black stirred. 

“These,” she announced, holding them out. “Are Crystals of Cal’Morti. They can make a monster out of anything. And I have dozens of them.”

“We should attack presently, then,” the Knight replied. 

“You will be staying put until I say so,” Uliana replied, sharply.

He bowed. “As you wish,” he said, his armor creaking with the motion. “But I am stronger than any one monster. Please, let me win your battles.”

“And you will have many to fight, my Knight of Doors,” Uliana said, and she tucked the box under her arm, with one crystal clutched in her hand. “But for now, let me do what I do best.”

Uliana patted him on the shoulder again, giving him a smile. “And stay at my side. If the Rangers attack, I will be nearly defenseless. And I will need you.”

“Yes, Emissary,” he said, with another bow.

-

It was a full day later, and the world was relatively quiet, thankfully. Brock was happy for the peace, and he was even happier to find the access tunnel was not only faster and easier, but also allowed him to bypass the gate check. He took the long walk back from the city, a box mounted on his shoulder, passing through the main room as he did.

Nate was there, unmorphed, standing in an empty space in the back, dressed in a black tanktop and baggy jeans. He snapped the staff forward, in an overhead strike that whipped through the air, then took a great leap backwards and thrust it forward with a loud ‘hiya!’ Sweat dripped off his arms and face as he moved.

Brock paid him no mind as he slipped into the kitchen. There was only one Ranger there -- the green one.

“Hey, kid,” Brock said.

Allen was standing at a machine that looked like an oversized oven, with a kind of spout on the left side. He was jamming his thumb into the panel on the front, inputting a complex series of buttons, until he stopped and tapped a huge one on the front. 

There was a hum, and a flash of energy on the inside. When Allen opened the door, there was a flat slice of pizza sitting on the plate on the inside, covered in pepperoni, olives, and mushrooms. It looked a little wet, even the crust, but it was recognizable as real pizza. Allen instantly snatched it up and bit into it, giving a small moan as he did.

“Well, it isn’t perfect,” he said, once he had gulped the first mouthful down. “But man. I can’t remember the last time I had a pizza. I think I was like, four?”

“I hear that,” Brock said, nodding. “Old pizza joint by the place I used to work, pre-Empire. Had the greasiest fries and the most unhealthy burgers. Bun was gone in seconds so you had to move fast. I miss it.”

“Wish I could’ve seen it,” Allen said.

“Well, who knows, maybe I’ll open one,” Brock then hefted the box and dropped it on the table with a loud ‘bang.’ Glass clinked together on the inside.

“What’s that?” Allen asked, eagerly. “Some new Ranger tech?”

“Yup,” Brock said, not meeting his gaze. “The most powerful weapon known to man. Pacifies the strongest with a few doses.”

He punched a hole in the top, and ripped the cardboard open, then withdrew two stout beers from the inside. 

Allen paused, not sure how to respond a moment. “So, uh,” he said, hesitating. “Is...is that the fuel for it, or…”

“Kid, I’m just messing with you,” Brock said, and placed the tip of the bottle on the table. “It’s just beer.”

“Beer? Oh,” Allen paused. “That’s cool.”

Brock raised his right arm up and smacked the morpher on his wrist down on the bottlecap, as hard as he could, and it popped off with a loud ‘tsst.’ He raised this up to his lips, and quickly drained a good third of it in a few quick gulps.

Allen gave him a startled stare. “I’m...not sure we’re supposed to use those for that,” he said, pointing at Brock’s arm.

Brock finally lowered the bottle, gave a satisfied ‘ahh’, and glanced at Allen. “You want one?” he asked, blowing by Allen’s warning.

“Ah, no,” Allen replied, waving a hand. “I’m fine.”

Brock drained the entire rest of the beer, before placing it on the counter and walking over to the food fabricator. 

“Heard from Jessie or Blaire yet?” Allen asked.

Brock nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Jessie’s mom gave her an earful, I guess. Blaire’s parents are busy with some...I dunno,” he waved a hand. “Some company that works with C-Sec. I guess they didn’t notice.”

“I wish they’d stay here,” Allen said. “But I guess me and Nate lucked out. We-”

A siren cut him off, and Brock gave a small sigh of frustration as he gave up on the burrito he was going to create. “Ah, figures,” he muttered, and drained the rest of his beer as he took a few steps into the main room, facing Soloz.

Nate had already ended his workout, and was leaning on the staff, facing the panel. He glanced at Brock, then gave a small noise of disgust as Brock placed the empty amber bottle on the panel before Soloz.

“Really?” he muttered, then shot a glance at the bottle.

“Yup,” Brock said, not meeting his gaze, then looked at Soloz. “So, where’s the fire?”

“I have just detected a disturbance in the city,” Soloz said. “I have tapped into the guard radio. Listen here.”

His voice faded, and the three men heard a crackle as radio chatter filled the air.

“... _ksshhttt commotion at 53rd and Franklin, in the construction yard...ksshhttt we are scrambling C-Sec elites to handle it, tell the guards to stand down for now...ksshhttt roger that, all units stand down…”_

“Elites…” Brock said, tapping his lip. “I think I’ve heard of the Elite units before. They’re sent out for advanced threats.”

“Like clayheads?” Allen asked.

“Like monsters,” he corrected. “Clayheads are not a problem if you have weapons. This sounds like a monster attack.”

“Then you are needed, Rangers,” Soloz said. “But that’s not all.”

His face faded, and a picture came into focus -- it was hard to tell what they were looking at for a moment, as it seemed to be a grainy photo of the sky, but as they looked closer, they saw a small object in the center, streaking through the air, heading right for Beacon City.

“My sensors detected this, only an hour ago,” Soloz said. “I don’t know what it is, but it is traveling at an incredible speed. I was almost not able to detect it. This may be some kind of monster-creator, but I cannot be certain.”

“53rd and Franklin, construction yard,” Brock said. “I think I know where that is. I passed by it the other day.”

Allen looked up to Soloz. “Can you call Jessie and Blaire?” 

“I will alert them via their morphers,” he said, nodding. “But you must go now, and engage this monster.”

“Then let’s Ranger up,” Brock said, and the two brothers nodded.

As soon as Brock’s face was forward, preparing the morphing sequence, Allen made a giddy little noise in the back of his throat, and his smile was impossible to tamp down.

\--

A good five minutes later, all three men arrived on the scene in the construction zone, morphed and helmeted. It didn’t take long to find the place they had to go -- there were people fleeing from the area in wild packs, several of them yelling and a few clayheads straggling along, pawing for them. 

“No C-Sec yet,” Brock said, and pointed. “Go, weapons free, take the clayheads!”

Nate and Allen nodded in unison, and their hands came out.

“Viperfangs!” Allen shouted, and a green streak of light came to his hands, and two short blades appeared in his hands, and he brandished them out. The blades were a sharp silver, and the handles were a bright green.

“Ivorystaff!” Nate yelled, and the club-headed staff appeared in his hands. 

Brock’s hand came out, and he clutched at the air. “Mandrill Blade!” he commanded, and his drill-sword was in his hands. “Go! Protect the civilians!”

Nate and Brock split off, and Allen gave another little giddy shiver of delight. 

“I just morphed, summoned weapons, and now I get to fight clayheads,” he said, and clenched his gloved hands on his twin blades. “This is _so cool!”_

\--

“I hope your new friends are nice.”

“They...seem to be,” Jessie said, pausing. “Not sure yet, actually. Still need to figure the rest out.”

Jessie’s mom was a nice woman, formally dressed and with a fancy little hat, age lines on her face that were covered up with expertly applied makeup. Jessie remembered something about her mom coming from Britain back during the time before the Golden Empire, but the details about the rest escaped her, other than that the modicum of wealth she brought with her. As such, Elsie was posh, pretty, and more than a little snobby.

“Seem to be?” Elsie repeated, and quirked an eyebrow. “Can you not tell?”

“Well…” Jessie struggled to put them to words, and tapped her fork against her clean plate. “One of the brothers is kind of a jerk. And the guy in charge of the club is…” she shrugged. “I dunno, a bit of a grump. But I like Blaire and Allen fine.”

“All for a self-defense club?” her mom asked, and shook her head, pushing her own empty plate in front of her away. “Seems like an odd bunch for that.”

“Well-” Jessie began, but she was cut off. Her morpher beeped, a six-tone jingle that startled her.

“What was that?” her mom asked.

She glanced at her morpher, at the button that would respond to the communication, and felt her heart jump. “I, uh,” she said, and stood upright. “That’s them, right now. I think...we have a meeting soon.”

“Now?” her mom asked. “But-”

“Yeah, now,” Jessie said, and was already on her feet. “Thanks for the meal mom, gotta go!”

“But-”

She was already out the door by the time Elsie could think of what to say.

\--

Blaire was deep in thought, hand moving quickly with the pencil in hand. He usually got like this when working, deep in his own head, focusing solely on the task at hand. The bit of pencil sketched across on the large artist’s board in his room. He lived very comfortably; an expensive computer and cushy furnishings were covered in the disorganized belongings he hadn’t had the mind to put away just yet. 

He sat back, and pulled up another sheet of paper -- this, however, was a larger one, with all sorts of carefully measured straight lines jutting out of it. Codes for chip types and focusing beams and morphin fuel laced all around the outside. Blaire stared at both, eyes darting from each, comparing the drawing of the X-rifle to the breakdown schematic he had drawn up.

He stared for some time, taking it in, comparing the two. Then, he put them back on the table and snatched an eraser, hurriedly smudging out a part that didn’t look _just_ right.

Blaire worked for hours like this, erasing and re-sketching and erasing again, until he finally was happy with it, and took both schematic and drawing out of the room with him.

He went down the stairs to a two-story home in the nice part of town, paper flapping as he did, passing by the photos of a happy black family, including his graduation. A wiry, lanky man who looked just like Blaire was pictured, shaking hands with another person in a suit, and the caption read, “PROMOTION DAY!”

“Dad?” Blaire asked, as he walked into the kitchen. He held the papers to his chest.

A man in his fifties was standing at the kitchen table, the same one in the photos, but fifteen years older, with greying spots in his temples and a lot more wrinkles on his face. He was a thin man, just like Blaire, but his face was longer and thinner, and his eyes had a steadier gaze to them.

Stephan gave him a small glance up from some papers spread out on the table, then back down. “Hi,” he said, distractedly. “I’m busy right now. Is it important?”

“I, k-kinda,” Blaire stammered. His heart was beating in his chest. “I, uhm, I worked on something you might like.”

“Mm,” his father said, and moved a paper aside as he spoke. He didn’t look up.

“It’s, uh,” Blaire said, and took a shaky step forward to spread the papers out on the table. “It’s about the X-rifles. I took some of the current designs and found a few tweaks I think might make them more efficient, and-”

“Just leave them there, please,” Stephan replied, without looking up, waving a hand. “I’ll take a look at them when I can.”

“I,” Blaire started to speak, but wilted, and his shoulders fell. “Okay...”

There was a pause as he waited for his father to look up. He didn’t.

“Can...can I maybe bring them by the office?” he added, hesitating. “I -- I just, I think the power output from the morphin energy fuel could be significantly improved, by-”

Stephan seemed to realize halfway through what Blaire had said, and looked up at last. “No, no, please,” he said, urgently, at last glancing at his son. “Please, don’t embarrass me at my work. I’ll look at it later.”

Blaire knew his hurt was on his face, but he didn’t bother hiding it, as his father was back to staring at the paperwork.

“Okay, dad,” he said, a little softer, and took a step back. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Mmm,” Stephan replied, with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine, if you need anything, ask Janey.”

“Okay,” Blaire said, and his eyes were fully looking down as he walked back to the staircase. He didn’t want to talk to the housekeeper about technical specs on grid-powered gauss rifles. 

There was a beeping noise coming from Blaire’s wrist. A little surprised, he reached down to cover it, alarmed to see it going off before his father -- but Stephan barely looked up. 

_Ranger stuff,_ he realized. _I’m...I’m needed._

For a second, he almost ignored it, wanting to talk to his father more. But it took him one glance back to realize his father was entirely within his own world, as he drew notes over God only knows what project C-Sec had him working on.

And so, quietly, Blaire walked out of the kitchen, grabbed his shoes from the living room, slipped them on, and left out the front door. 

\--

Allen slashed upwards with one blade, and it didn’t even hit resistance as a clayhead let out a startled noise and fell into two inert clumps of clay. He then twirled, pitching the one clutched in his left hand, and it stabbed straight through the head of another. Allen then took two steps and sprung into the air, in a leaping cartwheel, snatching the blade from the clayhead as it hit the ground.

He then stood, and gave a little jump in the air of delight. 

“I’m stronger, I’m faster, and I’m even more accurate,” he said, and gave a little feminine squeal of delight. “This is the _coolest._ ”

“ _Kid! Down!_ ” Brock yelled, and Allen reflexively did so, not even bothering to question the orders.

He heard a _woosh_ of something heavy rushed over his head, and he looked up in time to see a block of concrete the size of his thigh whip past him.

“Woah,” he said, and rolled onto his back to glance at where it came from.

A monster stood near him -- it was a twisted hunk of metal given arms and legs and a face, and bits of craggy concrete fusing him together. Two hands raised, made of twisted and coiled rebar. A wolf snout jutted out of his face, and beady eyes with yellow irises looked right at allen.

“Lucky dodge, little Ranger!” the monster snarled, and raised an arm. “But Rebark doesn’t miss twice!”

Rebark reared his arm back, and another chunk of construction material was in his hand, and he raised it up to bring it down -- and there was an explosion of concrete in his hand as a bolt of energy exploded into it. The monster let out a snarl of shock, and Allen turned his head.

The Yellow Ranger was running at him, a long rifle clutched in her hands. It looked like she was holding a big plastic yellow crocodile, but the mouth opened to allow a long silver rifle barrel to sprout from inside. She skidded to a halt, dropped to a knee, and raised her gun again.

“Allen! Get clear!” she yelled.

“Right!” Allen said, and rolled onto his side, clambering away and bringing his blades up.

Nate skidded to a halt next to him, then glanced at the monster. “That ugly thing the monster?”

“That’s the one!”

Rebark made a roar, and his hand came up. “Ugly!” he howled. “How dare you!”

Footsteps were pattering behind him, and he turned in place, only to see a black teenager running at him.

“Guys! I’m here!” Blaire shouted, waving his hand. “I’m-” he skidded to a halt, as Rebark turned to him. “Oh. Oh crap.”

Rebark’s arm pitched a chunk of cinderblock at him, and Blaire froze.

Only the rush of a Red Ranger jumping in the way to slam-tackle him saved his life. The cinderblock exploded as it crashed into the pavement behind him, and Brock rolled over.

“Morph!” he shouted, and jumped up, Mandrill Blade in hand, to engage the monster. “Rangers, go!”

“Oh -- oh yeah!” Blaire said, and jumped to his feet, snapping his morpher in front of him. “ _Blue Eagle, jungle power!”_

Blue light exploded from his wrist, enveloping him fully, and when it faded, the Blue Ranger was there, eagle-like helmet glinting in the sun.

“Oh, another Ranger!” Rebark shouted, and both his hands raised, summoning more cement and metal. “Then have another!”

Brock grabbed a morphed Blaire by the shoulder and they both sprung away as the grey block made a dent in the cement of the ground. The five Rangers were united, and Brock stood at the front, sword in hand. 

“What’s the plan?” Allen asked, blades out.

Brock paused a moment. “He’s tough,” he said, thinking. “Weapons hot, try not to get hit, don’t let him throw anything at you. He’s got a nasty curveball.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Nate said -- and burst into a sprint for Rebark.

“Nate, wait!” Brock shouted, but he was already gone.

Nate rushed up to the monster, and fell into a slide just as Rebark took a swing at him, narrowly missing. Nate’s arms went up, and he sprung to his feet, Ivorystaff clutched in his hand and he brought it down on Rebark’s arm. 

The monster let out a snarl, and he whirled in place, but Nate was again too quick, and ducked the other smack as it rushed for his head. Expertly, Nate stood to full height and brought his staff onto Rebark’s head, crunching it and making Rebark howl.

“How dare-” Rebark yelled, and Nate prepared to duck -- but a foot shot up suddenly, and Nate let out a cry of pain as metal and concrete smashed into his thigh. Rebark’s arm came up, and punched him right in the face, hard. It was powerful enough to send Nate to the ground.

“Nate!” Allen shouted, and broke into a run.

“No, damn it!” Brock yelled, reaching a hand out. “Wait for-”

But Allen’s blades were out, and he rushed in, springing into a full leap, twirling as he did, right over Rebark’s head. Rebark let out a snarl of confusion, and Allen took the open opportunity to jab both blades right into his back. Sparks exploded, and Rebark whirled, smashing Allen right to the ground.

“You annoying pests!” Rebark yelled, raising his hands up. “I will bury you both in concrete!”

“Ahhh, crap,” Brock said, and whirled, pointing at Blaire and Jessie. “Cover fire, hit him, then I follow up after!”

Jessie’s Crocoblaster went up, and she nodded. “You got it!”

“But-” Blaire said, and then his head snapped up. “Oh! Right!”

A white-and-blue gloved hand shot into the air. “ _Hawkbow!”_ he yelled, and blue light gathered in his hand, forming into a stringless bow, with feather-printed designs along the side.

Brock moved away, and Jessie leveled her gun. “Go.”

“S-sure!” Blaire said, and he aimed, pulling an invisible string back. A blue streak of light appeared in the space where an arrow would be.

Both of them fired, and blue and yellow light exploded along Rebark’s back. The thing growled, and turned. 

“Oh,” he said, with a grunt. “ _You._ ”

Brock took several great steps forward, and raised his Mandrill Blade up into the air. “And me!” he yelled.

Rebark’s arm went up, and he let out a laugh. “Don’t think I forgot about you, Red boy!” he boomed, and his other hand swung at him -- clutching Allen.

Brock let out a shocked cry as he yanked his blade back and away from his teammate, just in time as the Green Ranger smashed into him, right into his stomach. Both men fell into a pile on the floor, and their blades clattered to the ground.

Rebark turned -- and began stomping towards the Blue and Yellow Rangers, a chunk of concrete in his hand. He lobbed it hard, and Jessie let out a cry of shock as both sprung aside, splitting away as it bounced in between them, shattering into a million pieces.

Nate was on his feet, clutching his Ivorystaff, holding his head. “You son of a,” he grumbled, and took a few steps closer.

Brock pointed. “Nate!” he shouted, then to Rebar. “Cover Jessie! We need her gun!”

Nate said nothing. Instead, his hands twirled his Ivorystaff, and he broke into a run, jumping in the air and bringing it cracking down on the back of Rebark. Rebark let out a yell, but jumped away -- right back towards Jessie, who had raised her gun up. 

“Nate! That’s an _order!_ ” Brock yelled, and scampered over to grab his blade. “Nate!”

He was ignored. Brock let out a curse and pulled Allen up. “Get your blades,” he said, pointing at him. “Hurry!”

Blaire panicked as he watched Jessie be chased, and his hands brought the bow up -- he snapped a shot off, quickly, one that sailed right by Rebark and almost hit Jessie. 

“Oh, no!” Blaire shouted, and his head bolted down, shamefully. “I’m -- I’m sorry!”

Jessie tried to dodge the monster, crouching down low and ducking sideways, but one of his massive metal paws clubbed into her shoulder, and she let out a cry of pain as she fell to her side. Her hand clenched on the Crocoblaster, and the end burst a quick series of shots, all of which pumped into a half-finished building nearby.

Red support beams were suddenly lanced through with laser weaponry, and it let out a loud groan and began to tilt over. Brock gave a swear as he watched it bend.

“Get clear!” Brock shouted, waving his hands. “Move! Allen, get in there, cover Jessie!”

Allen was already sprinting by the time the support beam tilted over, as the groaning metal buckled. He was a streak of green by the time the metal tip smashed into the concrete, shattering it into a million pieces and sending bits of concrete into the air.

Allen’s blades were back in his hand, and he gave a cry as he jumped at Rebark. Nate was already on him, but he was being ignored as he pitched chunks of concrete at Jessie, giving only quick turns to swipe at the Black Ranger.

“Hey concrete-head!” Allen shouted, and brought the blades down, slashing right across the monster’s back. Sparks shot out, and Allen juked sideways as the paw of metal and stone swung right at him, sliding him right in the way of Jessie.

“I’ll cover you!” Allen said.

Jessie didn’t need to be told twice -- she sprung away, letting Allen block the way after her. 

A hunk of rebar and stone was pitched in the air, and Allen felt his heart squeeze in his throat as he reared back his blades. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought, and he flinched and closed his eyes as he slashed in the air.

To his relief, the bit of concrete exploded on contact, and he gave a startled gasp as it did. “Woah.”

“Bad ass!” Jessie shouted, as she skidded to a halt and raised her gun up.

Allen’s chest squeezed in excitement, and he crouched in preparation, watching for Rebark’s next move.

Nate appeared again, scepter raised, and he smashed it down, hard, right on the monster’s shoulder. Rebark gave an angry snarl and whipped around, paw coming out, but Nate was ready, and he whacked it hard with his scepter, then spun with the impact and smashed right at Rebark’s face.

To his surprise, Rebark crumpled back, staggering and holding his nose with both hands. “That hurt!” he snarled. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Wait,” Nate said, and looked up. “His mouth! Hit his face, it’s the weak point!”

Allen hesitated. “But Brock s-”

“Now!” Nate shouted, and swung hard for Rebark.

Rebark blocked the Ivorystaff, and raised an arm up to smash at him, and Allen reflexively moved, taking a big step in and cutting right at Rebark’s mouth. Rebark went to block him, but the blades struck true, and to his surprise, Rebark let out a howl of pain.

“You annoying-” he snarled.

“It worked!” Allen yelled.

“Of course it-” 

Rebark yelled and spread his arms wide, and both young men flinched in preparation for a swing, but none came. Instead, catching them off guard, rebar suddenly shot from his torso and arms, shooting out with the force of a jackhammer. 

Sparks exploded as both Rangers were bashed with metal; Allen felt something in his hip crack as he crumpled. Nate’s head was bashed so hard his helmet rattled, and a muscle in his neck was pulled horribly.

Brock had his blade up, pointed at the monster, and he tightened his grip as he prepared. “Jessie!” 

The Yellow Ranger was already in place, gazing down the sights of her gun. “Got it!” she shouted, and squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession. Bullets powered into Rebark’s mouth, and the thing step back and almost tripped on Nate in his shock, holding the smoking crater in his mouth.

Brock’s feet planted, and red energy charged through the blade, arcs of red lightning jolting from his hand up to the tip. He rushed forward, and thrust it forward.

Rebark only had time to let out a pained howl before Brock’s drillsword speared him in two, and he groaned as he fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces.

\--

Five Rangers walked back into the Command Center. Blaire was staring at the floor, shuffling awkwardly, and next to him Nate helped Allen limp in, his left leg curled up. Jessie was next to Brock, her rifle slung over her shoulder, following him as he stormed ahead of them all.

“Rangers!” Soloz said, happily. “I sense no monsters in the city at this point. Congratulations on a successful-”

“It was a disaster, thank you,” Brock grumbled, as he willed his body to release his Ranger form. Red energy dissipated over his shoulders and arms, and he was back to his old ratty t-shirt and jeans. “We almost got killed, because,” he turned and jabbed a finger at Nate. “ _Someone_ can’t listen to orders!”

“Shut up, old man,” Nate snapped, and Allen hobbled a step away to sit on a desk as he released him. “I found his weakness _and_ got a shot in! If it wasn’t for me we would all be dead by now!”

“We almost _were_ dead because you didn’t listen!” Brock snarled, waving a hand out. “I don’t need your ‘strategy,’ Nate, I need you to obey!”

“It-” Blaire blurted, suddenly, and he flinched as he looked down. “It was my fault. I’m sorry. If I didn’t almost hit Jessie.”

“Hey, no-” Jessie started to say, but was cut off.

“You’re _all_ useless,” Nate said, snidely, and pointed at Brock. “But if this guy would listen to me, we-”

Jessie slipped in between the men, holding her hands out. “Okay, cool it, both of you,” she said, hands up. “All we’re doing is pissing one another off. How about we take a few minutes away and talk strategy later, sound good?”

“Rangers, please-” Soloz said, but was ignored as Nate shoved Jessie’s arm away.

“No, it doesn’t ‘sound good,’” Nate growled, gesturing towards Brock. “I’m not going to let this moron lead us into-”

But he trailed off, glancing past her, only to see Brock storming away, box of beer in hand. He walked into his room and gave one powerful kick to the door, slamming it shut with a loud _bang._

“Coward,” Nate growled, and gave a punch to the desk he was sitting at.

“Hey!” Jessie said again, and waved a hand in front of him. “What part of ‘cool off’ did you not understand?”

“I concur,” Soloz boomed behind her. “This infighting is unhelpful.”

Nate gave a little swat at her hand, and opened his mouth to say something to Soloz, but his eyes fell on Allen, who was still holding his hip, and his anger slowly receded. 

“Fine,” he said, and gave both Soloz and Jessie a glare as he turned away. A hand snatched up his Ivorystaff and walked away, heading into his own room and tossing the door closed.

Blaire spoke up again, still staring at his feet. “It -- it was my fault,” he said, shoulders still curled in. “If I didn’t almost hit you, then-”

“For god’s sakes, _please_ ,” Jessie said, with a smile, putting her hand up. “It was an _accident._ God, everyone makes them, and this was, what, our first outing?”

“Second,” Allen corrected, and winced a little as he shifted in place. “Meteortite was our first.”

She saw the way he moved, and his expression of pain, and concern flickered on her face. “Oh,” Jessie said, taking a step towards him. “How’s your hip? Can I see?”

Allen nodded and slid off the counter, visibly wincing as he did. “It’s tender,” he replied, and put his weight on his other foot, resting a hand on the counter for balance.

“Should I power down?”

“No, god no,” Jessie said, waving a hand. “The longer you stay morphed, the better the grid can heal you up. Just let me look.”

The Yellow Ranger took his arm and helped him stand, watching closely as he hobbled in place a moment. She watched the spot, and didn’t see any swelling. Though it was hard to tell. “Can you move it?”

He nodded. “A bit,” he said, and raised his thigh up a touch. “Not as bad as it was earlier.”

“Good thing you were morphed,” she said. “That dog-thing could’ve broken every bone in your pelvis.”

“God, right?” Allen said, with a laugh. “Aren’t these powers cool? I can’t wait to fight our next.”

Jessie shook her head as he hopped away, leaning back against the desk for stability. “Easy, cowboy,” she said. “Only your first time, don’t get so excited.”

“Second,” he corrected again, and Jessie gave a snort.

“You seem alright, just keep off it until the grid can put it back together,” she said. 

“I, uh, I wish I was more use,” Blaire mumbled, and again glanced away, in shame.

“For god’s sakes, Blaire,” Allen said, more firmly. “You’re _fine,_ we’re all new at this and we all messed up today. Hell, I should’ve listened to Brock, but I jumped in to help Nate.”

“Who is a dick,” Jessie added, again. “If he turns on you, well, don’t take it personally.”

“Nate isn’t a --” Allen started, reflexively, then said, “He’s just...trying to look out for us. He’s protective like that.”

Jessie gave him a surprised stare. “That’s how he protects?” she asked, and gave a snort and a little nudge at Allen. “He must be a monster when he gets aggressive then.” 

Allen let out a weak laugh. “He’s a good guy. He just...gets like that. You know,” he waved a hand in the air, trying to capture a feeling he didn’t want to name. “Like that. He means well.”

“Hm,” Jessie said. She didn’t look convinced. “He just seems like a dick to me.”

Allen looked pained a moment, and didn’t speak. Then, carefully, he said, “Our...our parents died when we were really young,” he said, carefully. “And he’s...always kinda had to step up since then.”

“Oh,” Jessie said, and her smile faded a little. “Wow. How young were you?”

“I was thirteen,” Allen said. “Nate was fourteen.”

Blaire and Jessie gave noises of shock at the same time.

“That’s...that’s _way_ too young,” Jessie said, a hand to her mouth. “I’m...I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine, it’s in the past,” Allen replied. “But, you know, Nate had to step up, and he…” 

The Green Ranger trailed off, and glanced at his brother’s room.

“Well, you saw,” he said. “He means well. He just doesn’t take losing well.”

“Clearly,” Blaire muttered, low enough that nobody else heard.

\--

Blake again stood in a closed-off section of Beacon City, staring at the carnage the Rangers and monster had wrought. 

“How much is this going to cost?” he asked, hands in his pockets.

Stern gave a heavy laugh. “You want the generous estimate, or a realistic one?”

Blake gave a noise of disgust. “Never mind,” he said, waving a hand. He took a few steps towards a support beam for an unfinished apartment complex, and looked at the bullet holes that turned the base into slag, and at the way it kinked in the middle with how hard it fell into the concrete.

“Please tell me we have something, Stern,” he said, gravely. “Anything.”

“Well, as per your orders, the elite teams were scrambled,” Stern said, and fished his hands in his pockets. “Arrived too late. But a few soldiers saw the carnage. Apparently it was a mess. Looked like amateurs, they said. The Rangers, I mean. Uncoordinated and a mess of a fight.” 

Blake gave a ‘hmm’ of thought. “Will they go on the record on that? I could use that to ask for more C-Sec troopers. Get Elites spread out, try to optimize response time.”

“Probably,” Stern replied, and ran a hand over his moustache. “Taking it to the chief?”

“Going to have to escalate if we hope to stop the Rangers,” Blake replied, then put a hand to his chin. “Still not sure how they were able to respond before the elite troopers showed up…”

“You think they can teleport?” Stern asked. “I heard Rangers back in the day appeared out of nowhere.”

“Maybe,” Blake said, in thought. “But for now, we stick to the plan. Get me that C-Sec trooper, I want him to go with me to talk to the chief.”

“And then, more elites?”

“No,” he replied. “We don’t have the hardware. One per squadron. We mix up the Elites with the regular troopers, use them as repellent forces until we can figure out more about these Rangers or how the monsters are getting into the city.”

“You got it,” Stern said, jotting a note. “One anti-Rangers task force, coming up.”

\--

It was the next day -- the two brothers, Allen and Nate, were walking through the city, bags over their shoulders and hanging at their sides. Bits of packaging and receipt paper poked out the top. 

“So, what did you find?” Allen asked.

“I got…” Nate paused as he looked inside. “A couple rolls of gauze, some bandages, a splint, and some gloves. You?”

“Some surgical stitching, some rubbing alcohol, and a lot of bandages,” Allen replied, and let the bags hang. “Should be plenty stocked up now.”

“It’ll do,” Nate said, then gave a little huff. “Hopefully Jessie doesn’t whine too much,” his hand went up, and his nose and lip curled, and in a mocking voice, he said, “ _ehhh, you guyssss, we don’t have any medical supplies, could you go get some for meeeee?”_

Allen hesitated before responding. “I, uh, I like Jessie, actually.”

Nate looked at his brother. “You saying that because she’s hot, or something?”

“Not like that!” Allen said, and waved a hand. “She’s just...nice. I like her.”

Nate’s response was a scoff. “She’s a shrill, obnoxious priss. That Blaire guy can’t stop staring at his feet long enough to fight. And Brock…” he gave a frustrated noise of anger. “He’s a fool.”

Allen hesitated. “They’re alright,” he said, carefully. His brother could get wound up easily, and he had to be careful to talk him down . “They’re...all trying as much as we are.”

“I doubt that,” his brother replied, with a sigh. “If they tried at all they would be in there as much as I am.”

Allen didn’t reply to that. “I’m sure they’re trying,” he muttered. 

“I don’t think they are,” Nate said. “You saw. None of them listen to me. I gave them Rebark’s weakness, and they ignored me!” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Bunch of morons.”

The Green Ranger didn’t speak for a moment. Jessie’s words were bouncing in his skull. _He’s kind of a dick._

“Maybe...try thinking about it from their angle,” he said, carefully. “They don’t know you, you know. All you do is practice and yell at them. Not sure they really understand you enough to trust you.”

“This has nothing to do with trust,” Nate said. “Come on, this is about winning fights. They should see that I’m the best out of them.”

“You might be,” Allen said, and pointed at him. “But you’re still not the leader.”

“Actually,” Nate suddenly stopped, and turned to him. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

Allen stopped, tilting his head. “About what?”

The Black Ranger looked at his brother, then glanced around, making sure no people were nearby, then looked back at him. “Brock isn’t a leader,” he said, flatly. “You know that, right?”

Allen didn’t, but he never refuted Nate directly. “I...I mean, I guess,” he said. “But he said himself he just started-”

Nate cut him off. “And you know I’m the best we have, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then why not make me the Red Ranger?” Nate said, and smiled, pointing at himself. “If I’m in charge, the Rangers become a well oiled machine. If they have to listen to me, we take out monsters before they become problems. I know I could do that.”

“So...what, you’re gonna take his morpher or something?” Allen said, trying to joke, but Nate’s face read nothing but seriousness. Allen’s face went from mirth to worry. 

“I’m just saying,” Nate replied. “Some time soon, the other Rangers will realize he sucks. And when that happens, they’ll need a new leader. And all I need is for you to back me up, and it’ll work. If I have your support, they’ll all fall in line.”

Allen hesitated, and didn’t meet his brother’s eyes, glancing away to hide his discomfort. “I...I dunno man…”

“Just think on it,” Nate said, and smiled, hefting the bag up to his shoulder. “And wait for the time to come.”

Allen would think it over. But again, Jessie’s words were rattling in his mind. He didn’t often go against his brother’s wishes, but he thought about Nate’s moodiness and temper, and he didn’t like it.

\--

The two young men returned to the base; several of the bedroom doors were closed, and the only non-Soloz person in the main room was Jessie, who was bent over a deep cabinet that was not there before. 

“Oh, hey guys!” Jessie shouted, beckoning for them. “Over here, bring them here, I got a spot for them.”

“What’s this?” Allen asked, as he walked over, Nate just behind him.

“I had Soloz whip it up,” she said. “When I sent you out for supplies, I was going to stuff it all in that cabinet in the bathroom,” she took the bag from him. “He suggested it.”

“Cute,” Nate said, as he handed her the bag.

“I thought so!” she replied, without missing a beat, and started packing the shelves. “This seems like it’ll help, in case one of us gets injured.”

“Our powers protect us,” Nate said. “I still don’t see the point.”

Jessie’s hands were full of packaged bandages as she glanced at him and said, “Allen’s hip was almost a sack of marbles thanks to Rebark.”

“And it recovered within a few hours because he was morphed,” the Black Ranger replied, growing more irritable. “What, you going to slap a band-aid on him?”

Jessie gave him a smile and said, “Why, would you be jealous?”

Nate paused, mouth open, and he flustered a little before he said, “I -- no, of course not! That’s…”

He was saved by the alarm; the siren blared out, and Jessie at once dropped the items she was holding to get to her feet. Nate and Allen skidded to a stop before Soloz, and Blaire -- door to his room sliding shut -- came to a stop next to them.

Nate looked to the face in the wall. “What is it, Soloz?” 

“I have detected another one of Uliana’s objects entering the space above Beacon City,” Soloz said. “I have calculated its trajectory, and expect it to be landing momentarily.”

“Can you pinpoint it?” Nate asked.

“Not any further than this,” Soloz said, and his face vanished and displayed an image -- an overhead map, with a large red area highlighted. 

“Oh crap,” Allen said, and pointed, then turning to the others. “That’s deep in the slums. A lot of homeless and poor people live there. C-Sec doesn’t patrol those regions.”

“Then we need to get there, quick,” Jessie said, and reached for her morpher.

“Wait,” Blaire said, suddenly, glancing around. “Where’s Brock?”

All of the Rangers glanced around. Brock was missing. And his door was closed.

Allen at once skipped over to his room and started beating on the door. “Brock!” he shouted. “Brock, we gotta move! Ranger duty!”

On the other side, he heard a half-conscious groan, and then silence.

“Brock!” he shouted, and beat on the door louder. He was given no response.

“Ugh, ignore that idiot!” Nate shouted. “We have to move, we don’t have time!”

“We’re not leaving without Brock!” Jessie protested. “He’s our leader!”

“I would advise against moving in without the full team,” Soloz said, looking down on them. “Brock is the most capable among you, and-”

Nate’s face looked scandalized, and he cut off the talking head; “I’m easily the best-” he started, but visibly restrained himself, and instead said, “He’s not here now, and he’s not answering. We have to go without him.”

“But-” Jessie started to say.

“We have to move, and fast,” Nate interrupted, and gestured to his brother. “You heard him! C-Sec isn’t in that area!”

Allen hesitated a moment, then said, “I mean...we should go, quick,” he said. “But we _do_ need Brock.”

“We’ll be fine!” Nate said, and looked at Jessie. “Come on, there’s people’s lives at stake.”

Jessie glanced at him, then at his brother, in thought, then said, “Okay. Fine. We go now.”

“ _Thank_ you,” he said, with a sigh. “Let’s roll”

\--

The slums were not a pretty sight in the best of circumstances. Dirty streets and overfull waste baskets and a whole lot of miserable and needy people were scattered among the faded and chipped paint of closed off buildings or cheap housing. 

Like a bullet fired from a high caliber rifle, there was an impact in one of the walls to the building, and a single crystal burrowed deep, and started to glow. None of the people milling about had a moment to question what was happening before a chunk of the brick wall started to shift, and change, and burst forth.

A humanoid shape came out of the hunk of wall on the walkway, and stood, giving a roar and pawing at the air. Red brick and mortar ran through the outline of a bodybuilder’s shape, and he gave a snarl as he screamed, “ _Inbricktus has arrived_!”

He gave a triumphant cheer, and with a swing of his hand bashed aside a trash can, ripping the metal from the concrete with a wave of his fist. It smashed into a window, shattering it and burying into the wall, turning it into a heap of twisted scrap metal.

Civilians screamed in terror and fled; a few homeless people ran for cover. He stomped, and began to run, shoulder-checking them as he did, sending them flying. By the time they landed, bones cracked and they let out cries of pain.

Four teenagers came to a halt at the end of an alley, watching him as he stomped down the road.

“Oh what the hell did she make this time,” Jessie groaned. “Why is it always building materials?”

“Looks like another tough one,” Nate said. “Let’s get in, and see where his weak spot is.”

Jessie turned her head. “My gun could-”

Nate wasn’t looking at her. He didn’t even acknowledge her as he said, “Morph up!”

The Yellow Ranger gave an irritated sigh as she brought her morpher forward.

_“Black elephant -- jungle power!”_

_“Green viper -- jungle power!”_

_“Blue eagle -- jungle power!”_

_“Yellow croc -- jungle power!”_

Colored energy encircled all four, and then when it dissipated, four Power Rangers stood in the space.

_“Ivorystaff!”_

_“Viperfangs!”_

_“Crocoblaster!”_

_“Eaglebow!”_

Jessie pointed her gun up, and rested it on her shoulder. “We should try to take some shots at it, see what he can do first, before we get aggressive.”

“No,” Nate said, pointing. “We go in hard. The last guy had a weak point, this guy does too.”

“But we don’t-”

“Go, now!” Nate said, and gestured as he started to run. Allen fell in step next to him.

Jessie gave an annoyed sigh, and said, “You aren’t the leader!”

Nate skidded to a stop and pointed at her. “I am now,” he said, angrily. “Go!”

Jessie wanted to argue; but she could see that Inbricktus was stomping around, doing more damage and hurting people, so she gave an angry sigh and started to run, Crocoblaster clutched in her arms.

Inbricktus gave a cackle as he saw a building ahead of him that looked derelict and decaying. He gave a mighty cackle, and raised his arms. “Mind if I help with demolitions?” he laughed to nobody.

And then he was struck in the back by a mysterious assailant. 

Inbricktus let out a groan and turned, with a loud, “What the hell!” 

A Black Power Ranger was standing there, holding a staff, which he twirled in place and brought up. “Shut up,” he shouted, and smashed him in the stomach.

Inbricktus didn’t have the chance to respond before the Green Ranger was at his side, cutting at him with two huge blades. Sparks exploded out of the place on his back where he was struck, and he staggered back.

“Now!” Nate shouted. “Hit him with some fire!”

A good twenty feet behind, the Yellow Ranger gave a sigh, and took a knee, leveling her gun. “...fine,” she said, and pulled the trigger.

At her side, Blaire brought the bow up, and snapped off a quick shot as well.

Inbricktus gave a roar and fell to his knee, bringing a hand out to catch himself as the projectiles hammered into him.

“He’s weakened!” Nate yelled, and took a step forward, weapons up. “Keep on it!”

But Inbricktus gave a laugh, and a smile grew on the face that was carved into the red stone. He suddenly jumped up and took two powerful steps forward, and suddenly he was in a burst of speed, surrounded in crackling energy.

Nate brought up his staff, and swung, but it glanced off as though it were a balloon. Nate and Allen were both smashed aside as Inbricktus crashed into them both and kept charging. Sparks exploded out of them; Allen saw flashing red letters appear in his visor and pain exploded in his arm and chest, even before he hit the ground.

“Oh crap,” Jessie yelled, and moved to dive away, but Inbricktus ran at her like she had never seen, and her dive was interrupted by his dash. She felt herself being thrown aside, back smashing into the steps and shattering the concrete, gun tumbling through the air sideways. 

Blaire, somehow, managed to spring away, spinning in the air with his arms curled to his chest, bow hugged tight, and landed on the ground. He knelt down, shifted his stance, and fired off two more quick bow shots, which snapped right into the monster’s back.

He whirled, and beat at his chest. “Grrrh, you’re a clever one, aren’t you?”

Blaire didn’t reply; his bow kept snapping out more shots. 

“We need to get to higher ground,” Jessie said, as she crawled over to her Crocoblaster. Her back ached horribly and she could feel her shoulder was not responding like she wanted. 

“No, don’t let him charge again!” Nate shouted, and he limped as he clutched his weapon, limping over to get in the monster’s way.

“We’re exposed, he doesn’t have a-” Jessie stopped herself as she saw Inbricktus charging at Blaire. “Blaire, look out!”

But Blaire gave a spring jump into the air, and expertly leaped right over him as he careened past her and smashed into a nearby apartment complex. 

“...oh.”

The victory was short lived; suddenly, the building crumpled, and sagged in place, and began to fall over. And it was aimed right at Blaire.

“ _Move!_ ” Jessie screamed, and dove away.

Blaire did, in a sprint away from the location as an avalanche of brick and glass and metal fell on top of where he was. He got free only moments before it hit near where he was, and the Blue Ranger’s feet skidded as he came to a halt.

“Where’s-” Nate started to say, but the adjacent building burst apart as Inbricktus charged out of it, again tearing for Nate.

Nate didn’t have the time to move aside before Inbricktus bashed into him, in a solid hit right at his chest. He was sent to the ground, skidding along the pavement as he held his chest. Warning lights and red letters flashed in his helmet, everything on his body hurt. He cursed, loudly.

“Allen, cover us!” Jessie shouted, and limped a few steps away. 

Allen was on his feet, blades out, and he gave a shout of, “Hey, brickhead!” as he brought them out. 

The monster turned to him, and took a few steps towards him. Allen crouched in preparation to dive aside, just as he saw his feet begin to run.

Jessie took the moment, turning to the Blue Ranger. “Blaire, you need to get to higher ground, can you get to the roof?”

Blaire was totally silent as he glanced up, then at her, and nodded, then pointed at her.

“I can’t,” she said, and put a hand to her stomach. “I’m injured. But you have a ranged weapon too, and he doesn’t. We need you up there.”

Blaire paused, then nodded, and took a moment to look around. Then, deftly, he jogged up, crouched low, and sprung up into a fifteen-foot leap to an outstretched windsill. From there, he hopped, deftly, from window to window, until he gave a quick spring up, grabbed the lip of the window, and flipped onto it.

 _Woah,_ Jessie thought, watching him move. _Since when could he do that?_

There was another crash, and Jessie turned -- Allen was on the ground, unharmed, and Inbricktus had again smashed to pieces another front walkway. 

“We gotta bring this thing down before it destroys everything,” Jessie said. “Any ideas?”

Nate limped as he struggled to his feet, hobbling away from the monster, leaning on his staff. He said nothing; for the moment, he seemed humbled.

Three arrow shots sniped at Inbricktus’ back, and he gave a roar as he saw the Blue Ranger perched up high, bow pulled back. 

“That’s not fair!” he growled, and stepped towards Allen, reaching for him. 

Allen juked away, and cut at his arm. To his surprise, the monster recoiled, clutching at his arm, and a massive slash was in the red brick, a chunk taken out.

“That hurt!” he snarled.

Allen looked at Jessie. “Jess!” he shouted. “Target the limbs!”

Jessie stared at him a moment, totally baffled. “What?” 

Allen stepped away, ducking under Inbricktus as he went for a bear hug with Allen. “His mass is condensed into his torso!” he yelled. “That’s how he can do his charge! Snipe at his limbs, they’re weaker!”

“Oh no you don’t!” the monster roared, and took two quick steps at him, shoulder-checking him hard. Allen let out a cry as he was sent flying -- it didn’t, however, hurt as bad as the first time.

 _He needs distance to get his charge going,_ Allen thought. _Good to know. If we stay inside we should be fine._

Jessie raised her gun, but Inbricktus was already rushing at her, head lowered, and she let out a cry and dove aside. A quick shot from Blaire saved her; a perfect shot on his arm broke something in the monster’s rhythm, and he careened away, barely missing her.

“That’s annoying!” he roared, and reached down to grab one of the metal cage trash cans, ripping it from the ground with a snarl. 

“Blaire! Down!”

Blaire obeyed; the warning came just in time, as the metal cage glanced against the rooftop spot where she took cover, smashing it to bits and sending the metal cage wobbling off course.

Inbricktus gave a laugh, and turned, squaring up to Jessie, lowering his head. “Now then,” he laughed. “Where were we?”

There was a sudden roar from above, and a lightning bolt of red smashed down on top of the monster. He let out a howl; the Red Ranger was kneeling, blade driven into the ground, a red brick arm lying on the floor. He stood, and flicked the Mandrill Blade out. 

“My arm!” he howled, clutching at the spot. “Damn you!”

“Well, you had too many,” Brock replied, and brought the blade back up. “And you still do. Don’t move.”

“Brock?!” Nate barked, indignant. He could feel his bones were starting to pull themselves together, and his strength was returning thanks to the morphin grid that pumped through his suit. He took a few steps towards Brock, staff in hand. “Where in the _hell_ have-”

“Not now!” Brock shouted, and put a hand out, head locked onto the monster.

“I want an answer!” Nate yelled back.

Brock turned his head -- and that was his mistake, as Inbricktus suddenly charged at him, knocking him aside easily while he was distracted, and stomping right by.

“Blaire!” Jessie shouted, and leveled her gun. “Stop him!”

They both fired round after round at his legs, trying to cut him off, but he was already too far away by the time his dash started. Bolts of yellow and blue shot by, and missed, or plinked into his thick torso. His stomping feet rushed down the alley and turned the corner, out of sight.

“Ahhh, _damn it,_ ” Brock growled, and turned to Jessie. “You alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, holding her gun. “We have to get after him.”

Nate grabbed Brock by his shoulder, suddenly, and whirled him around. “Where _were_ you?” Nate asked, angrily, and jabbed a finger at his chest. “What, did you get drunk and pass out?”

Brock turned his head, ignoring him. “Everyone, get your stuff. We have a monster to tail. He won’t be hard to find, given-”

The sound of footsteps caught his ear, and he turned -- just down an alley, four suited soldiers jogged into place. City security, at last. Standard C-Sec suits were light jackets with armored pieces on the chest and back, with a half-helmet for protection. Brock took one glance at them and could see this was something else. 

All four were strapped with new rifles Brock had never seen before, and instead of the blue shirt with black armor, they were clad in white, with thick armor plating on the chest and arms and a full-cover mask on their faces and heads, fused to the neck.

Brock put up a hand towards them. “Fellas, hi,” he said, casually. “Best to stay back, we-”

The troops spread out, kneeling down, and leveled the rifles at them.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Brock said, and his hands went up. “Easy! We’re on your side!”

“Power Rangers!” the one in the lead barked. “Weapons down, on your knees, or we will open fire!”

Jessie stared at them, then at Brock. “What the-” 

“Woah, we’re on your side, we were just fighting the monster that-” he said, carefully, blade still pointed down.

“You have five seconds to comply!” the C-Sec soldier barked, ignoring him.

Allen glanced at Brock, then at the trooper. “Brock...what do we do?”

“Hey, okay, guns down, alright,” Brock said. “We’ll go, just don’t shoot at us!”

“You are under arrest!” the trooper yelled. “Weapons down, on your knees, immediately!”

“Arrest?” Brock asked, looking around. “For what-”

“Open fire!”

Bolts from the rifles arced at them all; Brock let out a pained yelp as one jabbed into his stomach, then another into his chest. It burned like crazy, and he could feel the suit screaming in protest as it attempted to protect him.

All his Rangers let out pained cries as well, and Brock let out a yell, “Get to cover!”

Jessie and Allen obeyed; one didn’t.

With a roar of fury, Nate was in the air, his staff raised up, and he sprung past the bolts as they ripped in the air past him. A few hit him; he ignored the flare of pain that exploded in his sides as he came down, hard, on the trooper in the lead. The soldier jumped away, and it wasn’t in time to save his rifle, as it was shattered to pieces under the Ivorystaff. 

The trooper went for a pistol at his side, and Nate gave an agile twirl past it and swung the Ivorystaff wide, smashing it right into his head and shattering his helmet. The man made a yelp and hit the ground, and Nate twirled his staff to raise it up.

“Goddamn it!” Brock yelled, and broke into a sprint. “Jess, Blaire, suppression fire!”

Jessie didn’t know exactly what suppression fire was, but she could guess. Her gun went up, and she fired several shots in the air just over where the three troopers remained. They ducked, taking cover, just as blue bolts shot into the ground near them. 

Brock landed, and just as Nate’s staff rose, Brock’s hand grabbed the tip. Nate’s attempt to swing it down was stopped, and he turned in place. “Brock, what the-”

“We do _not_ use our powers on humans!” he yelled, and tugged the staff out of his grip. “Fall back, _now!_ ”

“But-”

“ _That’s an ORDER!”_ Brock yelled, at the top of his lungs.

Nate gave up, and let out a frustrated yell as he sprinted away. Brock, holding both weapons, followed suit, as did Allen.

Soon, all five Power Rangers were gone, and the troopers only saw the outline of yellow and blue outlines fleeing.

\--

Thanks to their advanced speed and ability to jump great heights, the Rangers were able to get a distance away from the spot where the monster attacked, and rushed onto a blank bit of roof, where they could be alone. They skidded to a stop at Brock’s orders, and all at once sagged in place, tired and hurting.

Jessie looked around, leaning on her knees. “Is everyone okay?”

“I’m fine,” Allen said, but touched his arm. It was sore. “He didn’t get me too bad.”

She looked behind herself, at Nate, intending to ask if he was okay, but his face was a glare right past her and at their leader. Wordlessly, he marched right up to Brock, pulling his helmet off as he did.

“Where the _hell_ were you?” he barked, angrily.

“I’m here now,” the Red Ranger said, as he popped off his own helmet.

Nate looked at Brock’s face. He was sweating visibly, and his eyes were a little unfocused, and he looked pale. He looked sick, visibly so, and once his helmet was off he took a deep breath and sagged in place. 

Nate realized it, as much as Brock tried to hide it. “You’re hungover, aren’t you?” he asked. “That’s why you didn’t answer. You were passed out.”

“Of -- of course not,” Brock said, and waved a hand. “Look, I’m here now, that’s what’s important.”

Nate gave an angry sigh, and looked away, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he said. “We’re being lead by some idiot drunk, who-”

“Oh my god, Nate, _please,_ ” Jessie finally said, putting her hands up. “Can we talk about this _later?_ We have one very pissed off monster rampaging in the residential districts, _and_ C-Sec just tried to kill us.”

“Jessie’s right,” Brock said, nodding at her. “We need to track that thing down and destroy it, quick. Anyone have any ideas?”

All of the Rangers were silent. Blaire’s helmet was still on, and he said nothing.

“Wait,” Allen suddenly said, pointing. “C-Sec has to know about Inbricktus by now, right? Can we patch into their radio and track him that way?”

“Good call, kid,” Brock said. 

“But we’d have to-” Jessie started to say, but an idea came to her, and she pulled her helmet on. “Soloz, do you read me?”

“I do,” Soloz said. “And I’m already working on a solution. Stand by, rerouting signal to you now.”

There was a pause, then a crackling white noise came into Jessie’s ears.

“... _ksshhttt monster sighting, stay clear, he seems to be smashing everything in sight...ksshhhtttt...roger, we’re tracking his movements and preparing to open fire at an opportunity….ksshhhtttt….prepare squadron at 7th and Lombard…”_

“Seventh and Lombard,” Jessie said, aloud. “C-Sec has him heading that way.”

“There it is,” Brock said, and pointed. “Let’s go.”

They all moved -- Jessie didn’t, hand still to her ear, listening closely.

“ _Ksshhtttt...wait, wait, belay that order, he’s ripping open a circuit breaker -- oh god, break away, all units fall back!”_

Jessie’s hand went up. “Wait!” she said. “Something’s happening!”

They froze, and she kept listening.

 _“Ksshhttt...monster appears to be growing at a rapid pace, he’s gaining incredible size! Fall back, fall back to base, prepare giant countermeasures! Stand down, all units!_ ”

“He...he grew,” Jessie said, glancing up. “He’s--”

Her eyes went wide as she saw, just a few blocks away, the head of Inbricktus start to crest the buildings, and he was still growing. His cackling laugh boomed louder as his size increased.

Brock turned, seeing her stare, and he gave a quiet, “Oh, shit.”

“Well, _now_ what,” Nate said, visibly deflated.

“Rangers!” Soloz said, in their ears. “The monster appears to have grown to incredible size. Return to base immediately, you will need your Zords to fight him!”

Jessie looked up at them. “Soloz says he has Zords for us. We have to get back to the base, fast.”

“Then let’s move,” Brock said, and he pulled his helmet back on and turned to spring on the nearby roof.

Nate, Jessie, and Blaire all followed suit. Allen, however, grew a wide smile, and his fingers clenched in excitement. 

_We get Zords?_ He thought, and tittered in place. _We get Zords. This is_ so cool!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/DashWallkick for further updates
> 
> I don't have many other social media spots I check regularly, but pester me enough and I'll get them.


	3. Shakeup

The base door slid open -- all five Rangers poured in, jogging as they ran to the console. Brock was in the lead, his helmet tucked under his arm, and he slapped it on the console as he looked up to the face on the wall.

“Soloz!” he said, a little out of breath. “Zords. Let’s see it. Quick. We have a very pissed off rock monster stomping around.”

“I have created a pathway to the hangar while you were on your way,” the blue face in the wall said. “Observe the back wall.”

They all turned as a metal bay door slid open -- a new one in the back wall, next to the entrance Brock had fallen into when he discovered the morphers. As the blue metal panel slid up, lights clicked on, and the color-tinted shapes inside at the end of a long ramp were visible.

“Woah,” Jessie remarked, as she took a few steps closer.

“Come on,” Allen said, as he began to walk faster. A broad smile was on his face, and he glanced back at them. “We gotta hurry. Inbricktus won’t wait.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Jessie asked, but she followed him.

Allen didn’t respond, but his smile -- much as he tried to repress it -- was visible on his face.

The five Rangers ran down the ramp, white lights illuminating their way, Ranger boots making metallic ‘thunk’ noises as they jogged down the ramp, into the hangar.

Each Zord sat inert and still like a statue of a deity, tall and mighty and eerily quiet for a thing of incredible power. Each one sat on a ramp, pointed at a massive bay door, and the top and sides of it were covered in rock and grit, the colors of the metal and paint faded with lingering debris.

A coiled viper, head lying on its body, neck frills covered in dust, lay in the middle of the group, white eyes dull with a lack of power. To its left, a metal eagle, painted blue, sat with its wings folded up against its chest. Its head pointed down, tucked into its chest. To the right, a crocodile with yellow paint sat, mouth closed, tail folded over its back, legs curled down over tank treads. A lanky looking monkey in red stood at its right, legs and arms folded up, sitting squat in place. At the far other end, a square-shaped elephant sat, boxy legs bent in a squat, trunk curled up under the tusks.

“Woahhh,” Jessie remarked, then her mouth curled up into a smile. “Is that yellow one mine?”

“They’re all ours,” Brock said. His face held no smile and his stride didn’t break; he looked like he was doing little more than punching in for a job. “Let’s roll.”

\--

Allen found the entrance to his Zord on the back of the neck, where the head met the body, at a small hatch. He fumbled for a moment to try and find some sort of lever or grip to pull it open, but when his fingertips brushed the hatch, there was a flash of green light across the top, and it gave an audible _click_ as it slid apart.

 _Awesome,_ Allen thought, with a giddy little noise in his throat, and placed both hands on the entrance as he fished his legs in and dropped inside.

Allen came to a stop in a seat, like a pilot’s chair, with a throttle to his left and a side stick to his right. His gloved hands came to the controls, gently running his fingers down the sturdy sticks. 

_A zord,_ he thought, and rubbed his gloved hands together excitedly before giving each one a firm grip. _Hell yes._

His touch activated something -- suddenly, lights and switches and buttons all across the board in front of him lit up, and the screens before him flashed as they all flicked to life. Readouts of data filled the screen, and after a few seconds a crystal clear picture of the bay doors came into view.

“Oh my god,” Allen said, and gave a broad smile as he tightened his grip. “This is so _cool._ ”

“Rangers, everyone ready?” a voice crackled in his ear.

Allen nodded out of instinct, and gripped the controls. “Ready,” he said, and looked at the monitor to his left.

The eagle and mandrill were coming to life -- blue and red lights flashed in their eyes, and their limbs began to move, creaking as the aged joints came to life, clouds of dust shooting into the air and rocks sliding off and hitting the ground. The Zords were alive once again.

“Then let’s go,” Brock said, and Allen watched as his Mandrill Junglezord stood to full height, giving a little flex of his arms as he did. The bay doors slid open, and daylight poured into the hangar. Brock’s Zord took a step, and was off, knuckles smashing into the ground to aid his run.

Allen felt a surge of excitement in his stomach, gripped the throttle, and flicked a little switch that said, “READY MODE.”

The Viper Junglezord kicked to life underneath him, head suddenly jolting upright, and Allen’s heart shifted in his chest as he felt himself raise up, the floor growing distant in his monitors. He could hear metallic groaning behind him as his Zord rose to height.

 _Oh man, oh man,_ he thought, and pushed the throttle forward.

His stomach lurched as the viper shot forward, and there was a shift in the floor beneath him, as the coil of his Zord’s body shifted. The chair beneath him shunted to the right, then left again, and he was off, the cockpit lurching with every shift of the snake body.

Five Zords shot from the mountainside, and raced for Beacon City.

\--

Each of the Zords thundered across the desert as they rolled, Brock’s giving a loud four-step pattern as his mandrill galloped along, far ahead in the lead. Blaire in his eagle was high overhead, keeping pace. In the distance was Beacon City, growing closer as they ran towards it. Sand and rocks exploded with every shift of his Viperzord’s body. Jessie’s Crocozord kicked sand up behind her tank treads.

Allen used the time to run his hands over the controls. The Zord was surprisingly easy to pilot -- the throttle directed the speed and the stick did directions, and the Zord did the rest. As he ran, he gave a little veer to the left, and the Zord responded by effortlessly navigating around a rocky outcropping. Much like the Ranger suit, it felt like his brain and Zord were connected mentally, and the controls just helped the piloting process.

He looked around the buttons and switches on the panel before him. There were dozens of them, and he felt lost even running his hands over each one by one. A large green one stuck out to him, and he put his fingertips to the top, as if preparing to press it.

There was a vague outline of a memory in his head, like an event he had only seen, and yet the vision was from his own eyes. Allen could sense, and feel, and hear his Zord coil up and bite down on a monster he had never seen before.

“Anyone else feel weird?” Jessie asked, suddenly.

“Kinda,” Allen said. “Like...weird memories, or something.”

“It’s the Ranger hardware,” Brock said. “It’s piping information about how to pilot to you through the Zord.”

“Is that why I have total memory of my Zord’s full systems?” Nate asked. 

“Yeah,” Brock said. “The same way your suit does with everything else, like fighting or how to use the Jungle Weapons.”

“Feels weird…” Jessie said. “The suits are fine, this is...haunting.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Brock said. “It goes away after-”

“Look!” Allen shouted, suddenly. “On the outskirts, west side!”

Beacon City looked as tall and silvery as it usually did, minus one feature -- a plume of smoke billowing from a smaller cluster of buildings. And in the center, a brown-tinted humanoid form was standing, moving around as he shattered buildings as though they were made of glass.

“Crap, he’s already manhandling the city,” Brock shouted, and gave an exhale. “Alright, let’s get in there and take him apart. Remember; limbs. And Nate?” he paused before speaking a moment. “Nothing funny.”

Nate said nothing.

“What’s the strategy?” Jessie said, her crocodile zord rumbling along. She pounced in the seat as the treads rolled over uneven terrain.

“The strategy is I’m going to get in there and use this thing to pull his arms out of his sockets,” Brock said. “I think this has enough power to do it.”

“What about us?”

“You will stay put and do as you’re told,” Brock said. “All of you, hold back and wait for my orders. Fistfights with monsters are one thing, Zords are a whole other animal.”

“Pun intended?” Allen asked.

Brock gave a sigh. “...sure,” he said.

“You can’t just bench us,” Jessie said. “We’re your teammates and we’ve-”

“No time for discussion,” Brock said, sharply cutting her off. “Now look alive, we’re almost there.”

Jessie gave a tight sigh, but didn’t respond.

The wall that surrounded the city was high enough that it kept out anything human sized, and monsters hadn’t been giant-sized in the area for over a decade. But Zords were another story, and Brock jammed the throttle forward, aimed right for the barrier. His Zord jumped at his touch, front hands slapping on the wall’s peak, kicking off with the hind legs just after, before landing on the ground on the other side.

“Woah,” Allen said, and felt a little jealousy. _Can I do that?_

He gave an experimental thrust forward on his throttle, and yanked back on the stick. His viper reared back, reaching up high, and throwing its head over the wall, and began to slither right down the side of it again, powered purely by the push of each yard of its colossal body.

“Holy _hell,_ ” Allen shouted, and gave a cheer he couldn’t resist. “This thing _rules!”_

Jessie gave an irritated yell. “Hey! What about me? I can’t even-”

She suddenly felt a jolt in her whole Zord, like someone had sideswiped her. At first she reached for the throttle, planning on jerking the controls away, but her heads-up display showed a soft green outline of an eagle, just over an outline of her croc. 

And slowly, she began to lift off the ground. Blaire was picking her up.

“Thanks Blaire!” she shouted, just before she was dropped onto the street on the other side of the wall, and gunned the controls forward.

Nate’s elephant gave a heavy roar of effort as it jumped, powerful back legs sending it up high enough to kick off the wall, just as Brock’s did. There were indents in the metal and stone left behind, like it was little more than a brittle toyset a child was too rough with.

The Zords ran the short distance left heading towards Inbricktus, who had just pulled himself away from the rubble of another building he had shoulder-tackled apart. He gave a mighty laugh; it reverberated through the city and through even the thick metal of the Zords.

Allen sized up the rocky beast, and noticed something -- his arm was back, and it was weirdly grey, as opposed to the red and brown brick of the rest of his body. He could see bits of street pavement lined in places all along Inbricktus’ bicep, and one of his fingers had a road sign in it.

“He grew his arm back,” he said. “I didn’t know he could do that.”

“Monsters teach you a lot of stuff,” Brock said. “So we gotta take his arms out before he gets any back. Got it. Everyone, stay back, cover me when I call.”

“But-” Allen started to say.

“That’s an order!” Brock shouted.

“O-okay,” Allen said, his voice wilting.

Brock flipped a few switches, and gripped the controls. “Okay, big guy,” he said, and pushed the controls forward. “Let’s see how you handle _this_.”

The mandrill zord broke into a run, galloping on all fours, and sprung into the air. His metallic hands clamped down onto Inbricktus’ body and arms, and he locked onto a firm grip at his front, one hand tightly grabbing his wrist. Inbricktus let out a yelp of surprise, and tried to spin and shake him off; Brock’s cockpit shook, but he held fast.

“Okay,” Brock muttered, and reached up, tugging a handle just above him.

His Zord’s left hand, tightly grabbing the wrist, tightened and gave a hard yank, the pistons in the bicep pulling with all its might. Bits of the monster crumbled, and his arm started to weaken.

“Oh no you don’t!” Inbricktus shouted, and took a step forward, then started to run.

“Oh yes I -- unh!” Brock’s whole world suddenly gave a violent lurch, and readouts on his visor and cockpit started to flash red. “What the-”

His Zord had sustained significant damage -- to his back and chest. He was still gripping the monster, but his readouts were all dark, and as Inbricktus stepped back, he realized bits of rubble and metal were falling from both of their bodies.

 _Oh crap,_ Brock realized. _He smashed me into a building._

“Brock!” Allen yelled. “Get out of there!”

“I’m -- I’m fine!” Brock yelled, and yanked on the handle again, his hand wrenching the monster’s wrist harder. “I just need-”

He was cut off again, as his Zord suddenly thrashed harder, lights in his cockpit flickering and his whole body smashing against the chair. Gravity swung in all directions, and Brock only barely saw his HUD enough to realize he was on the ground, crushed underneath Inbricktus. Red lights flashed, alarms were going off, and an outline of his Zord with red sectors came up on screen. He had sustained a _lot_ of damage.

 _Crap,_ Brock thought, and he reached up. A flash of pain tore across his body -- something had tweaked in his back again.

_Ahhh, double crap._

\--

Nate was watching, hand on his throttle. He was obeying orders, and closely. And it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy watching Brock fail. But the Zord was getting mangled, and he didn’t want to see equipment damaged. Least of all something he, deep down, wanted to pilot one day.

But when he saw Inbricktus smash the Mandrill Junglezord into the pavement, and the way the lights winked out in the monkey body, he lost his ability to care about orders.

“Oh screw this,” he said, and thrust his throttle forward. His elephant gave a trumpet and reared back, then stomped forward. “If anyone has guns, give me cover fire!”

There was a two second pause before blue bolts shot from the sky, hitting Inbricktus perfectly with a pattern of _budda-budda-budda-budda_. That got his attention, and he rolled away, giving an angry look up and away from Brock.

Nate took his chance -- he flicked a few switches, and punched a button on the controls.

His tusks suddenly shot from the slots next to his trunk, and wrapped wholly around Inbricktus by the chest, yanking tight around him. Inbricktus let out a snarl of confusion, and was yanked harder. He fully moved away from the prone mandrill, and dug his feet into the ground.

“Oh you Rangers are _irritating!_ ” he shouted, and grabbed both of the chains, tugging on them. 

Nate’s readouts were safe, but he wasn’t making any headway. “Allen, legs!” he shouted.

“On it!” Allen shouted, and punched his throttle forward.

In moments, a green coil of metal was curled around Inbricktus’ legs, and Allen hit a switch, constricting it tighter. The monster gave a yell, and hit the ground; his legs kept pumping, trying to loosen, but Allen was not thrown off. Metal coiled around crackling earth and rock.

“I can’t get a bite, but he’s not going anywhere!” Allen shouted. “Can someone get the arm?”

“Someone will,” Jessie said.

Allen only managed to glance to his left just in time to see Jessie’s croc zord racing up towards Inbricktus, jaw open wide. She came screeching to a halt just as the top half of her Zord’s mouth slammed down on the exposed arm. 

Inbricktus let out a howl; the rocky formation of his bicep was clenched tight, and Jessie mashed a few buttons. The grip grew tight, and his thrashing wasn’t helping.

Suddenly, the arm exploded off, into a thousand tiny rocky bits.

“Aaauuuggghhh!” Inbricktus boomed, flailing. “My arm! Damn you, Rangers!”

Nate flipped a few switches, and pulled a lever. “My chains are in the way, I’m detaching!” he shouted. “Jessie, go for a bite on his other arm! ”

“On it!” she shouted, and her croc gunned it in full reverse, tank treads kicking up debris as she gave herself space.

The tusks retracted, and the chains zipped into the front of Nate’s elephant Zord, retracting with a loud _clank_ as they connected. 

Jessie gunned her zord forward, and she flipped the switch to open the mouth, readying the button to slam the jaw back down.

And then, suddenly, Inbricktus gave a sudden roll, and the viper Zord that tangled up his legs was being kicked at her. 

“Jessie, look out! I can’t get-” was all Allen managed to yell before their Zords slammed together. Jessie’s croc tumbled over, until it landed on its side, and Jessie all but fell out of the cockpit. Allen felt himself shaken, but he held on, stubbornly refusing to free him, knowing he was dangerous on his feet.

“I’m -- I’m down!” Jessie shouted, wrestling with the controls. “I can’t get up!”

The noise of a distant jet engine screamed closer, and Jessie didn’t need to wait to know what came next. Blaire, again with the assist, came in low, claws beneath extended, and she felt a sudden and sharp _bang_ as it impacted her Zord, and her whole world wobbled as she was flipped upright.

“Perfect! Thanks Blaire!”

“Jess, I need -- unh!” Allen was cut off as another punch landed on his cockpit, Inbricktus hammering the head of the viper with his one good fist. The Zord’s center rattled so bad Allen toppled right out of his cockpit. Suddenly, the body loosened, without a pilot. Inbricktus was freed.

He made the most of the moment; he kicked off the limp green cord, and got to his feet. “Nice try, Green Ranger!” he cackled, and turned. “But you’re going to have to try harder than th-”

He was blasted in the face, suddenly, by a stream of blue energy bolts, firing from the air with a familiar _budda-budda budda!_ The monster let out a howl and flinched away, turning aside and shielding the one good arm he had.

And then, from behind, the elephant Zord suddenly rammed into him, sending him careening into the ground.

“Nice! Good hit!” Allen yelled, as he climbed into his cockpit. “I’m still down, give me a second!!”

“No need,” Brock’s voice suddenly said. 

The mandrill Zord was flying through the air, still banged up but back in the fight, lanky arms stretched into the air. He descended upon the rock monster with a double axe-handle made of metal, which smashed right into the toppled thing’s shoulder. He howled; Brock grabbed the limb with both arms.

“No! Damn you, Rangers!” he shouted.

“Blaire!” Brock shouted, and reached another arm up.

Blaire’s zord swooped in, and the claws gripped Brock’s arm, suddenly yanking upright. Right on cue, Jessie’s jaw clenched onto the thing’s leg. And Nate’s elephant reared up above the monster’s thigh, waving both front legs in preparation to come down.

Everything happened at once; explosion of brick and mortar went everywhere, and the thing let out a howl as sparks shot out of him. In the center of the pile of Zords there was an explosion, and then the monster was little more than inert rubble.

\--

The bay door for the Zord hangar slid open, and five Rangers walked in, with much less haste than before. Allen was practically giddy as he trotted in, helmet tucked under his arm, giving a little turn to Jessie at his side.

“That was _the coolest!_ ” he said, tightly.

“We kinda could have died, you know,” Jessie replied, but she couldn’t resist his energy.

“But still, that was _awesome,_ ” he said, with a broad grin.

Soloz’s face was bright and blue on the monitor as they filed in, a smile on his face. “Well done, Power Rangers!” he boomed. “You’ve triumphed over your first mega monster, and piloted the Zords successfully on your first mission. Excellent work from you all.”

“Not all of us,” Nate grumbled as he let the Ranger power fade, shooting a glance at Brock.

Brock ignored the cut, and waved his hand, the red and white pattern of his Ranger suit fading as he did. “You all did fine,” he said, without looking at them. “Let’s just not pat ourselves on the back too much for it. We have a long way to go.”

Allen turned to Blaire, at his side, and gave a little point at himself with his thumb. “You hear that?” he asked, proudly, without a hint of sarcasm to his face. “‘ _Fine.’_ ”

The Black Ranger was not so excited, and he gave his brother an angry sigh. “ _We_ did great,” he said, then glanced at Brock. “ _He_ did badly. Unless you already forgot about when Inbricktus pancaked him thirty seconds in.”

Brock gave an audible snort, and pivoted to look at his teammate. “If we’re bringing up Inbricktus flattening us, you’re not one to talk.”

Nate’s jaw clenched. “And where were you, exactly? Passed out?”

Brock rolled his eyes, and turned away, refusing to look at any of them. “I’m not getting into a squabble with you,” he said, shaking his head. 

”Yes you are,” Nate sneered, and took a step towards him. “How can we rely on you as a leader if you don’t even show up?”

“Hey, come on, we-” Allen started to say, but was cut off as Brock let out a laugh.

“Since when do I answer to you?” he asked, meeting Nate’s stare.

“Maybe things would be better if you did,” Nate replied, and his voice was a little lower, more stern, staring right at Brock.

Brock folded his arms, head tilted to the side, an amused smirk on his face. “Oh this is interesting,” he said. “What’s that mean?”

“You know,” Nate said, and reached his hand out. “You’re a drunk and an idiot and unreliable. Give me your morpher. I’m going to be the Red Ranger now.”

Brock laughed -- right in his face, and gave him a dismissive wave. “Sure,” he said, and turned away. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious!” Nate protested, hotly. 

The Red Ranger was already walking away, not even giving him a look. 

Nate’s anger boiled over, and he took three steps over to him, grabbing him by the arm, and yanking him back. Brock gave him a surprised stare as he again saw the hand jammed into his face.

“Give me your morpher,” he ordered.

The other Rangers all gave reflexive jumps in shock at the move. 

“Woah, Nate, relax,” Jessie said, taking a step forward. “This is a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“No!” Nate said, turning to them. “If we’re going to risk our lives I think leadership should be _competent,_ or is that too much to ask?”

“I’m saying-”

“You know what? Fine,” Brock said. “You can be the Red Ranger.”

“What,” Allen asked.

Jessie’s face went blank in shock. “What?” 

Nate’s jaw dropped open. “What?” 

“Sure,” Brock said, and took a step back, bringing his hands up. “We have a little contest over it. How’s that sound, hmm?”

Nate paused, then looked around, a little taken aback. “Sounds fine,” he said, suspiciously. “You swear?”

“I swear,” Brock said. “You beat me in combat, you win the Red Ranger morpher.”

Nate nodded. “Agreed,” he said, and took a step back, arm coming out. “ _Black elephant, jung-_ ”

“Oh no, none of that,” Brock said, hand up. “You want to beat me, you do it without your powers. Unless…” he paused, and shrugged. “You don’t think you can.”

The gentle taunt hit home, and Nate lowered his arm. “Fine,” he said. “No powers, then.”

Brock turned to Soloz, holding up his wrist. “Hey, blue guy, can you turn these off for the next few minutes?”

“Brock, I advise against this,” Soloz said, behind him. “There is a greater threat than this argument.”

“We aren’t fighting Uliana until we settle this,” Brock countered. “Trust me, it won’t take long. Just turn off our morphers.”

Soloz held a moment, in thought, then slowly said, “...very well.”

Allen was entirely silent, watching the situation fold in front of him, as Nate took a few steps back, in the open space at the back of the command center. Jessie turned, and took his arm, tugging on it.

“Can you…” she asked, quietly, and didn’t finish the question, at a loss.

Allen didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say. He knew it was coming, and yet, right then, Allen felt like it was happening too fast.

He looked at Brock as he went into a fighting stance, standing just far enough away from Nate. They were separated by only a few feet, and Blaire -- still morphed, helmet tightly on, also said nothing. Jessie, giving up, finally dropped her arms to the side, and resigned herself to watching. 

“You ready?” Brock asked, fists up.

Nate gave a sharp nod. His body was tense and rigid, prepared for the fight to come.

“Okay,” Brock said. “Go.”

There was a pause as neither man stepped forward, and the two simply stared each other down, giving little steps forward as they looked for footing. Brock stayed mostly still; he stared right at Nate.

Nate paused just long enough, then suddenly jumped forward, taking a great step and bringing his foot up for a side kick right at Brock’s midsection. Brock deftly moved to the side, and it shot past his stomach, missing entirely. Nate shifted his weight to land on his foot, and come up to full height, and it was the last thing he remembered as Brock’s fist smashed into his nose.

It was not the first time he had been hit in the face, but Brock’s skill and muscles lended a power to it that stunned him utterly. Nate was barely aware of the sensation of being brought into a locked grapple, and was only getting his senses back when he was pitched across the room bodily, giving him just enough time to roll as he hit the ground on his shoulder.

Nate skidded to a halt, and his fists came up. “Nice shot,” he said. “But you-”

Brock wasn’t in a fighting pose. He was standing at full height, a morpher dangling from his fingertips. 

“You lose,” Brock said. “Get the hell out.”

Nate’s stomach dropped, and he slapped a hand to his wrist -- it was gone. Brock had his morpher.

“That-” he blurted, totally stunned. “Give me that back!”

“No,” Brock said, coldly, and gripped the Black Elephant morpher in his hand tightly. “Pack your things. You’re out.”

Jessie gave a tight gasp and put her hands to her mouth. Allen totally froze up. 

“I...that’s not fair!” Nate protested. “I...you didn’t-”

“Your idea, and you lost,” Brock said, and jerked a thumb to the door. “I’ve put up with you for long enough. You’re out of the Power Rangers.”

The reality of the situation sank in, and Nate’s humiliation faded, replaced with anger. “You know what? Screw this,” he snapped, standing to full height. “We don’t need you or your dumb powers.”

“Sure you don’t,” Brock said. “Out.”

Nate turned to Allen, and gestured. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Allen was still frozen, staring at Brock and Nate, eyes wide. He didn’t speak, and his breath came short. His foot inched a little back.

Nate stared at his brother, waiting, then a little more firmly said, “Allen? _Come on._ Let’s go.”

Allen didn’t speak, but slowly, his head lowered, and he looked away from Nate.

The gesture was subtle, but said everything; Allen was not coming with him. Nate’s mouth opened in shock, for the moment totally blown away by the refutation. Nate’s mouth slowly closed, then pressed into a line as he glared at his only living brother.

“I see,” he said, slowly, then turned and walked into his room.

A moment later, he walked out, backpack in hand, shooting a glare right at Brock. He didn’t look at Allen or the others. 

“Door’s that way,” Brock said. “Don’t dawdle.”

“Screw you,” Nate said, and marched right, heading out the main entrance back towards the secret exit. And then he was gone.

Jessie stared at the scene in front of her, hands still cupped over her mouth, thinking, _what the hell just happened?_

\--

Jessie and Blaire stayed the night in the base, as did Allen. They didn’t hear from Nate.

By the time the next morning came, all three meandered into the kitchen. Jessie was munching on some watery oatmeal, and Blaire was eating some fried eggs that had no seasoning. Allen wasn’t eating, sitting at the table with his hands folded together. None of them spoke.

At long last, Jessie broke the silence. “Are you alright?” she asked, looking at Allen.

There was no zest or life to his eyes, and he didn’t look up. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “Never better.”

Jessie looked down at her oatmeal again, and resumed her silence.

Eventually, Brock wandered in. He didn’t look drunk or hungover, but at that point Jessie wondered if she would even be able to tell. He moved towards the food fabricator, punching in a few commands to the display, and said nothing to his team.

A breakfast burrito popped out of the machine, and Brock took it, biting in. He didn’t even glance at any of them.

Eventually, Blaire broke the silence. “So...now what?” 

Brock glanced up, at him, then at the rest. “Mmm?” he asked, and chewed.

“He said, ‘now what,’” Jessie repeated, looking right at Brock. “And I want to know too. We’re down one Ranger. Which means we’re down one Zord, too.”

“Which means no Megazord,” Blaire said, then added. “I mean...if we have one.”

“I know, I know,” Brock said. “But don’t worry. I have a plan.”

Jessie’s body relaxed, and she gave him a curious look. “You do?”

“Yup,” he said. “Follow me.”

\--

An hour later, all four Rangers were in the city again, following Brock as he marched through the slums. His eyes were scanning constantly, looking for something or someone, but Jessie and Allen didn’t ask, okay for the moment with merely waiting and seeing. Eventually, after hours had passed and hunger and fatigue started to seep into their bodies, Brock made a noise of recognition, and said, “C’mon, over here.”

There was a young woman sitting against the blank spot of a building, with a pixie cut blonde hair and a boyish face. She was wearing a dirty leather jacket, and her free hand clutched a ratty bag. One homeless man was asleep to her left, stretched out on a bench, mouth halfway open as he snored.

“Hey, kid,” Brock said, and she didn’t turn to him. 

He gave a shrill whistle, and said a little louder, “Yo, Kay! Over here!”

Kay turned to him, and her eyes flicked with recognition. “Oh, Brock, right?” she asked, then added, “What, you going to hassle me into running again?”

“You wanna be a Power Ranger?” 

Kay stared at him, completely baffled. “I...what?” 

A second later, a black box attached to a wristband was pitched at her, and she gave a startled noise as she fumbled to catch it.

“Great, you got the job,” Brock said, and turned in place. “Come on, follow me.”

He walked past the other three Rangers, all of whom only stared at him, absolutely shocked.

Jessie spoke up first, taking a few quick steps to catch up and gesturing at the girl tugging the morpher on. “Who...who is that?”

“Some kid who robbed me,” Brock said, as though it explained anything.

Jessie again stared at him, at a loss. “You don’t even…You don’t know who she is?”

Brock tapped her on the arm. “Well, I didn’t know who you were, did I?” he asked. “Worked out okay.”

The Yellow Ranger fumbled to answer his infuriatingly pedantic point. “That’s...that’s not,” she managed, but Brock gave a little gesture with his hand.

“Trust me,” he said. “It’ll be fine.”

 _Will it?_ She asked. _I hate it when I agree with Nate._

_\--_

Brock was standing, his hip resting on one of the computer consoles next to Soloz. The other three Rangers were waiting patiently by the far wall next to the dorms, looking at the new recruit. 

Kay, meanwhile, was chomping into a slightly damp and oily hamburger, wrapped in soaked paper towels, absently ignoring as the grease and ketchup dripped onto the blue-tinted floor of the Ranger base. She looked around, at the Jungle Weapons that hovered in the glowing lights of the weapon rack, and at the dorms, and at the face in the wall. She looked slightly amused by it all.

Eventually, her burger was finished, and she pitched the wadded up towel in her hand over her shoulder, ignoring where it went. She wiped her mouth on her wrist, getting a large glob of ketchup on the morpher right where the trigger was.

“So,” she said, at last, and pointed at Brock. “The Red Ranger?”

“Mm-hmm,” Brock said, with a small nod.

She then pointed at Soloz, and said, “And you’re...what, the base’s housekeeper?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Soloz replied, patiently.

She turned, and looked at the remaining three, with a little smirk. “And these kids are the other Rangers, then?”

“I’m...pretty sure we’re the same age, actually,” Allen corrected, gently.

Kay ignored him, and glanced back to Brock. “Wow, and this is the team that’s gonna save the world, huh?”

“We’re working on that part,” Brock said.

Kay paused, in thought, then glanced around, then back to him. “I wanna get paid,” she said. “How much does this job pay?”

“It doesn’t,” Brock replied, tiredly. “You put your life on the line and the job is thankless. You want a job, go be a Runner.”

She laughed -- it was mocking. “Quite the offer,” she said. “Are there _any_ perks, or what?”

“Infinite food and a place to live,” Brock said, and he gestured around. “I mean, if you’ve seen Beacon City, you know that’s pretty good.”

“You also get to thump monsters,” Allen added. “That’s kinda cool.”

“The Zords are great,” Blaire muttered.

Jessie hesitated, then said, “You get to help save the world, if we pull this off.”

Kay gave a snort of laughter, rolling her eyes at them, then glanced to the Red Ranger. “And this is your team, huh?”

He met her gaze, and he gave a visible sigh. Brock’s patience was eternally low, and Kay was grating on it. “They are, yes,” he said, his voice moments away from coming out through gritted teeth. “And they do alright.”

“Sure sounds like you need all the help you can get,” Kay said, and gave a smirk. “Plus...whacking monsters with cool weapons? Yeah...I could do that.”

Brock didn’t respond; he only looked at her, waiting for her to continue. Kay visibly paused, making no attempt to hide her mirth as she gave a look away, put a finger to her mouth, and made a long ‘hmmm’ noise. 

“Mmmm, alright,” she said, and turned to Brock, sticking out her hand with a little snort of mockery. “I’m in…’captain.’” 

“I am going to regret this,” Brock said, but he shook her hand.

There was a pause as the two made eye contact, before Kay finally broke, scooping up her backpack with a single low dip. 

“Well, if that’s all settled, I’m going to check out my new room,” she said, and glanced at the other Rangers as she passed them. “No losers allowed, thanks.”

Kay kicked her door closed, and it slammed shut with a loud ‘BANG’. Brock visibly sagged in place, and put his hands to his eyes.

“Boy I am going to regret this,” he muttered, and at once turned towards the kitchen, shaking his head as he went.

There was a little pause before Blaire broke the silence, a smile on his face and a strange zest to his body language. “Man, she’s…” he paused a second, then, “... _really_ cool.”

“She’s...kind of arrogant,” Jessie said, and hesitated a moment. “I dunno. Brock says she’s good…”

“She _must_ be good,” Blaire said, and smiled. “Man, we lucked out. She’ll make a great replacement. She’s gonna-”

“Biare,” Jessie said, urgently, then flicked her eyes to Allen.

Allen’s whole body was slumped over, and he was looking away, a sad expression on his face.

“Oh...oh right,” Blaire said, and he looked horribly embarrassed. “I’m...I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”

“It’s fine,” Allen said, under his breath. “She’ll...she’ll be a good replacement for Nate, I guess.”

\--

Kay wasted very little time making herself comfortable in her new home, at once clearing out a couple of the leftover belongings Nate had, a few posters and some dumbells among them, and dumped them outside the door. Jessie, before Allen could see it, quickly moved them elsewhere. 

Brock, as usual, bailed out the second she was on the team, which left some of the grown up responsibilities -- again -- to Jessie, from how to morph to summoning her Jungle Weapon. The Ivorystaff was where Kay finally showed some interest, as she held it, gripping it tightly and sliding her ungloved hands over it. Her thumb pressed into the middle, testing the thing’s strength; it was exceptionally sturdy, as a weapon for a Power Ranger must be.

She looked back to Jessie. “Ivorystaff, you called it?” she asked, and gave a little snort. “That name sucks.”

“I didn’t make it,” Jessie replied, then pointed at it. “It knows how to come to you. You just stick your hand in the air and call for it when morphed.”

“What about the big robot things?” Kay asked, and let the weapon touch the ground. “I saw them yesterday, when do I get them?”

“The Junglezords are in the garage.”

“‘Zords’?” Kay asked, and snorted. “God, does everything here sound like a child made it up?”

Jessie furrowed her brow. “You sure don’t seem to like anything, do you?” she said, bluntly.

“I like things that don’t suck,” she said, and held up the staff. “This stuff seems alright. Get past the name and the goofy animal stuff.”

“You don’t _have_ to be a Power Ranger,” Jessie said. “You can just go if this is all too lame for you.”

Kay again gave a smirk, and looked away as if in thought. “Mmmm, maybe,” she replied, holding up the staff. “This stuff is kinda for kids. But,” she looked back to Jessie. “You guys need me.”

Jessie saw the challenge, and didn’t flinch her eyes once. “Not really,” she said, and held her hand out. “You can just give me the morpher back. We have other candidates.”

Kay’s smile wavered, and she looked -- for the first time since Jessie met her -- off balance. “No you don’t,” she said, but her face had a hint of panic to it. “Brock said-”

“Well, he doesn’t know everything,” Jessie replied, cooly, and again gestured for the morpher. “It’s okay, just give it to me. We can send you along.”

“Uh, no, that’s, I mean,” Kay’s smile came back, and she gave a forced laugh. “You nerds need all the help you can get. I better stick around to make sure, you know, you guys don’t screw anything up.”

Jessie could see Kay’s act stumble, and it was her turn to smile, looking at the new Black Ranger struggle to keep appearances. And so she only said, “Really.”

“Yeah, totally,” Kay said, and glanced away, not wanting to meet Jessie’s eyes. A second later, she placed the Ivorystaff in the weapon rack, where it again resumed its hovering. “Well, this stuff is cool. I’ll check the Zords out later...you know,” she gave a quick look to a totally unimpressed Jessie. “If I feel like it. It sounds kinda-”

“-Kinda lame?” Jessie asked, and didn’t hide her smirk.

Kay’s sentence died in her mouth and she gave a weak scoff. “I’m...gonna go get some food,” she said, and Jessie allowed her to hold onto some of her dignity as she left the room.

\--

Allen’s stomach was in knots as he made the long trek out of the Ranger base and into Beacon City, heading for a place he hadn’t been for weeks now. He felt slightly sick, anxious enough to make his neck and back hurt, and all the faces and people around him blurred into a mush of unrecognizability. He wouldn’t have been able to spot Brock if he passed him.

The long trek took him to an apartment complex, a cramped and shitty part of the city that he had signed onto a year ago, before Nate aged out of financial assistance. Allen’s pittance was not enough for them to keep going; the planning for Nate applying to C-Sec vanished the day they became Rangers.

Allen took a deep breath, and tried to stand upright, then gave a quick knock on the door. It was silent.

“Nate?” he asked, quietly. Then, a little louder, he said, “Nate, it’s me. You there?”

Penetrating silence. Allen was not sure if he was being ignored or if nobody was home; his guilt told him firmly it was the former. His hand turned the doorknob, and found it unlocked as he gently pushed it open.

The room inside was dark, not a single light lit and the warm air told him that there was no air conditioning running either. The crummy couch was exactly as Allen remembered it, and the sun that streamed in through the windows was flooded with dust. Exactly as awful as he remembered it; and entirely empty.

The Green Ranger gave a sigh, and stepped into the room, slowly making his way to the sofa. When he sat on it, it gave a creak of disrepair and strain. Allen didn’t know if he felt better or worse that Nate wasn’t there, but it was all awful sensations either way.

He glanced around the warm and dusty room. 

“Where the hell did you go,” he said, to nobody. 

He sat in the room for hours. Nate didn’t arrive. 


	4. Red Mandrill Power

For a time, the monster strikes stopped, and it gave the Rangers some time to relax. The threat of a new attack loomed ever larger with each passing day, but after a week, it seemed as though they were finally in some kind of resting period. 

Brock drank; Kay procured an old music player and zoned out on her bed. Blaire and Jessie spent more time at their homes. And Allen spent some time in his room. 

On the eighth day, Jessie wandered back to the base from her house, dressed in a white summer dress with floral patterns up the sides and front. The dress was pretty, and a few of the imperfections and oddities among the stitching and hems revealed that it was homemade. A pair of polished silver earrings dangled from her lobes.

The base was totally empty. Jessie poked her head in the kitchen, and then the Zord bay. Not a single human was around; though she did notice a motorcycle placed inside that wasn’t there a few days ago. She wandered over to the dorm rooms, and poked her head into the only one with light in it -- Allen was lying sprawled on his bed, wearing the same clothes he had yesterday.

“Hey,” she said, giving a little tap on his door. “I take it you’re not busy?”

Allen gave a dejected shrug. That was his main method of communication the last few days.

“Well, not that the food replicator isn’t great,” she nodded to the kitchen as she gave a wry smile. “But, my mom is making lunch, and she wanted me to invite some friends.”

“And so you’re stuck with the only one here?” 

“Well, I was going to invite _everyone,_ but,” the Yellow Ranger gestured around. “As you can see, we have just one.”

“Call them?”

“Their loss,” Jessie said, and walked closer to him, tugging gently on his jacket. “Come on, I insist.”

Allen didn’t respond a moment, wallowing in his own mopiness. 

“Unless you don’t _want_ fried chicken sandwiches?” she prompted, gently. 

At that, Allen’s ears perked up, and his eyes looked at her at last. His stomach broke through the haze of depression, and he gave a little nonchalant nod. “I, uh, I could eat, yeah.”

\--

Blaire was not especially strong outside of his Ranger form, and as such his spindly arms had a difficult time holding the group of boxes he was currently saddled with. One music player, new bedsheets, some clothes...Blaire hadn’t asked to buy anything for himself, and the pile was growing too high to see over. By his count, though, Kay had spent at least a hundred bucks.

“Oh cool, check it out!” Kay shouted suddenly, and veered into another shop. “This place has headphones! I could use a new pair. Come on, let’s check it out.”

“I, uhm,” Blaire said, and stumbled as the pile in his arms threatened to tip over. “S-sure.”

He wandered in behind her, tower swaying as he navigated into the front doors. Kay was off without waiting for him, moving right past some of the absurdly expensive TVs and towards the audio section. Blaire struggled to keep up as he slid past the other customers and through the hallways.

“So, uh,” Blaire managed to say, leaning his head around a pillow. “I thought you were like, broke.”

“Oh, I am,” Kay said, without looking up, and flicked her fingers past several earbuds, before picking up a pair that were black with silver accents. 

“Then...then how-”

“I stole Brock’s wallet a few weeks ago,” she replied, then glanced at him. “You want a pair?”

“No, I -- I have some,” Blaire said. “But...but does Brock know?”

“Oh, no,” she said, waving a hand. “Not at all. He thinks I spent it all already. I was banking it to try and keep myself going while I was on the street, but now that I’m flush and I have a house…” she shrugged, and waved the earbuds at him. “Screw it, right?”

“That…” Blaire paused. “That seems...kinda...”

“Oh Blaire,” she replied, and patted him on the head with the earbud packaging as she walked past. “You’re quite naive, you know that?”

“Oh…” he said, and flinched, eyes shooting downward. “S-sorry…”

“Ugh, you are such a loser,” she said, and gave him a little shove, which almost caused the boxes in his grip to topple. “Do you do anything other than follow the rules and apologize?”

“I, uh,” Blaire began, and trailed off, before finally saying, “I...I draw.”

Kay’s face looked at him for a moment in expectation, as if he would have more to say, but as the silence stretched out, she gave a great sigh of annoyance. “God, you need to be un-losered like, pronto, a-” 

An idea came to her, and she glanced at Blaire. “You know what? I can make you like five percent cooler right now. Gimme that.”

She took the boxes from him, and stacked them on one arm easily, resting the bottom one between her bicep and her forearm. Kay’s free hand pointed at him. “You’re gonna steal something.”

Blaire’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head. “No...I couldn’t, my dad would-”

“Your dad won’t find out about it,” Kay said, and looked at him expectantly. 

Blaire didn’t move, glancing back at the electronics store, then back to her. 

“I...I don’t think-”

Kay rolled her head back and let out a long, frustrated groan. “Uuuuggghhhh,” she moaned, and took the step closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake as she looked right into his eyes. 

“You can’t just keep being a dork like this, sooner or later _you,_ ” she punctuated her word with a tap on his chest. “Are gonna have to make decisions for _you._ And to start with, you’re gonna do some theft. So _get in there_ and I don’t want to see you back here until you swipe something.”

Blaire’s face was awed and quiet looking at Kay, and he gave a nervous nod that rattled his glasses, and took a deep, calming breath. He straightened his back, clenched his fists, and walked into the store Kay had just moments ago walked out of.

The windows were high and small, so Kay didn’t see his movement through the store. She did, however, glance around a little bit, plotting an escape for herself in case he came running out with C-Sec or a store manager chasing him. 

_I could just hop the fence on Broadway and 55,_ she thought, tilting her head. _Would give me a clear shot down Garden towards the base. C-Sec sucks at jumping fences._

The minutes ticked by; Kay got bored enough that she almost considered him a lost cause, possibly apprehended and dragged into some back room to wait for police to arrive. But, just as she was mulling over ditching him, Blaire walked out, hands in his pockets.

Kay’s face lit up in a smile as he came closer. “Well, look at you,” she said, and gestured at him with her free hand. “Looks like you’re n-”

“I didn’t take anything,” Blaire said, cutting her off. He was staring at the floor again. “The…there was a manager there and I panicked.”

The Black Ranger gave an agonized groan, looking at him. “Oh god,” she sighed, and slid the boxes to her hands to hold out for him to take back. “You’re worse than a dweeb. You’re a _dweeby loser._ ”

“I’m...I’m s-”

He was cut off as their morphers suddenly beeped at them both. Blaire jumped as he brought his wrist up to answer the call.

“Ah, great,” Kay said, and shoved the boxes into his hand. He gave a small squeak of shock as he fumbled to catch them all, and Kay took the moment to take a few steps into the alley, morpher at her mouth.

“Yo,” she said.

“Rangers!” Soloz said. “I have detected one of Uliana’s monster makers in the area. Its impact zone is only a few blocks away from you, in the food market on 12th street.”

“Oh,” Kay said, and turned her head. She knew she was only one block away if she hopped the fence. “Okay, can do. I’ll be in touch.”

Blaire had only just managed to get the tower of boxes under his control, balancing the center on his knee while fumbling to place his left hand on the furthest corner, just as Kay walked over and grabbed the whole stack, carelessly pitching it against a wall.

“Come on,” she said, and gestured for Blaire to follow her. “We got a job to do.”

\--

Brock had run out of beer the day before. Given there were no monster or clayhead attacks for him to take his frustrations out on, and he had been reasonably left alone in the last week, the few cases he had bought had been gone through, and the low hum of pleasant buzz that chilled his nerves and settled the ache in his back had faded. And so he was back out, taking some of the last bit of money he had to purchase another case.

He looked in his moneyclip after he paid. Only a few more bills left. He would either have to do some running to make some cash, or he’d have to go without beer.

 _I could probably swing being away for a few weeks,_ he thought. _They’ll be fine without me._

The Red Ranger only had just departed the market, case dangling from his left hand, when a C-Sec guard tapped him on the shoulder. Brock turned; he was armed, with an X-rifle in his grip, and he gave him a small nod as he met his eyes.

“Brock?” he asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, and Brock realized that his voice sounded familiar. “Oh, James, right?”

“Nice of you to remember,” James replied, and gestured with his head. “Come with me. Boss wants to talk to you.”

“The boss?” Brock asked. “What boss?”

“Commander Blake,” the soldier replied.

Brock didn’t move, hesitating. He didn’t like the sound of that. 

James waited for him, then asked, sharply, “You want me to arrest you, or you want to come quietly?”

“Can you…” the Red Ranger made a gesture with his hand. “I dunno, do me a favor and pretend you didn’t find me? I’ll just leave, I promise.”

“I dunno,” James remarked, his voice dry. “Let me check what my family might think about that.”

Brock’s shoulders slumped, and he said, “...right. Okay then,” he placed the box of beer on the counter in front of the vendor, said, ‘hold onto this for me, will you?’, and turned back to James.

“Okay...Commander Blake, then! Let’s meet him.”

\--

Allen had not been at a person of wealth’s home before; it was an altogether new experience. Walking into Jessie’s family penthouse felt like walking into a palace, as he observed the well cleaned polished wood floor and the walls that were painted more recently than “when it was built.” He spent a few moments staring awkwardly at some of the decorations, like the fine china stored in a glass cabinet and the two extremely clean bathrooms.

The lunch was delicious -- his discomfort in the house faded quickly when he bit into the fried chicken sandwich. It was expertly prepared, with good breading and juicy insides. After weeks of the slightly damp food that the fabricator put out, having some crunchy breading and crispy buns felt like a godsend. He greedily had seconds, and chugged tea to wash it down.

Eventually, Jessie remarked that they had to go, and Elsie only allowed Allen to leave once he was taken into a fierce hug that caught him off guard. The two departed, giving a little wave as they went down the staircase to the lobby.

By the time they were down a single floor, Jessie gave a little noise in her throat and squirmed uncomfortably. In a low voice, she said, “I’m...I’m _really_ sorry about my mom.”

Allen laughed; his shoulders relaxed. “Oh thank God,” he said, shaking his head. “I was worried I was going to have to explain to you why I was so, y’know…” he paused a moment. “...tense.”

“Oh no,” Jessie replied, waving a hand. “I know my mom can be a lot. I still was a little shocked when she offered to…” she sucked some air through her teeth, and looked away. “‘Whip you up some tacos.’”

Allen groaned, head rolling back. “God, I know,” he said. “I thought I was done with that stuff when I moved out of the foster home.”

Jessie was giggling, out of discomfort, and Allen couldn’t hold back his smile either, as he glanced at her and added, “I’m not even _from_ Mexico! I was born in Nevada!”

Jessie’s face flushed red and she covered her face. “God, I’m so embarrassed,” she said, looking away. “I don’t think she’s left the penthouse more than one day a week since I was born.”

“It’s fine,” Allen said, and then tapped her on the arm until she looked at him, and he gave her a smile. “Really. It’s fine. It was kind of funny, actually. Besides,” he shrugged, and put a hand to his stomach. “That was _amazing._ If she can cook like that she can call me Juan for all I care.”

“Oh god, I would shrivel up and die if she did that,” Jessie said, but she was laughing. 

There was a pause, and Allen glanced at her, then back away. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For bringing me out here,” he said, and gave her a shy glance. “It was fun.”

“Well,” she shrugged. “It seemed like you needed it. And I figured a nice lunch would be a start.”

“I did,” he agreed. 

There was a pause. Neither of them spoke for some time as the elevator went down. The hum of the machinery and their mutual silence filled the tiny square-shaped room.

Jessie turned to him suddenly, her hands pressed together, mouth open as she sought words. She seemed to stumble for a second, trying to find the right ones, until she at last said, “Have...you heard from him?”

Allen shook his head. “No,” he said. “I haven’t.”

“I’m...I’m sorry,” Jessie said, and paused again, then added, “How are you feeling?”

Allen again didn’t look at her, and said, “Great. Never better.”

She let him have that, and let the issue drop with a simple, “Good.” Then, after a moment, she added, “You know...if you ever weren’t. I’m here.”

Allen didn’t speak, his face was firmly faced forward, and his shoulders were again tense. She saw him take a deep breath, then release it, eyes flicking down. Jessie didn’t push the issue, letting him have his privacy. 

Then, as the elevator ticked down to the second floor, he broke the silence. “It just…” he paused, and took a breath. “It just doesn’t feel good. To have to pick between being a goddamned _Power Ranger,_ and…” he held out his hand, and sighed. “Your brother.”

Jessie didn’t reply, just looking at him and nodding patiently, allowing him to speak. The elevator doors opened, and they walked out together. 

The district was bustling with people, all of whom were finely dressed and well kept. Jessie looked perfectly at home with them; Allen did not.

“I dunno,” Allen said at last. “I just...feel like I’m selfish.”

“You’re not, though,” Jessie said. “You-”

She was cut off as both of their morphers beeped at them. Allen jumped, and gave a quick glance around, putting his hand over it to silence the sound coming from it. 

“Over there,” he said, and Jessie followed as they both ducked into an alley.

Allen gave a little look both ways before raising the morpher to his mouth and pushing a button on the side. 

“Allen here,” he said.

“Rangers!” Soloz’ voice said. “A new monster has appeared, just north of the slums by the market. The Black and Blue Ranger are already engaged, morph and pursue immediately!”

“You got it,” Allen said. He looked to Jessie. “You ready?”

She was pulling her earrings out as she nodded. “Ready.”

“Are we clear?”

She looked around. Nobody was nearby that she could see. She paused a moment before nodding and saying, “Yeah, we’re good.”

Their wrists came up to their chests in unison, and both of them triggered the levers.

_“Yellow croc -- jungle power!”_

_“Green viper -- jungle power!”_

\--

The C-Sec trooper led Brock all the way into the wealthier district of Beacon City, where the streets were cleaner and the buildings were taller. Brock hadn’t been there many times, even in his repeated visits. He recalled one time when he was running for a high-value target who wanted something brought to him directly in his penthouse. Brock didn’t know what the box had, nor did he care. The job paid well. That was as close as he had gotten before now.

The C-Sec building was blocky and sturdy, with reinforced doors and armed guards standing at the front entrance. They were fancier, too, with the bulkier armor and the sheathed melee weapons. Brock couldn’t tell if they were tasers or billy clubs or some kind of sword. None would surprise him. It looked like a prison, and as he walked along, he started to worry that he was walking into a trap.

“We’re...going in there?” Brock asked. “I thought you said the commander wanted to see me.”

“He’s in there,” James replied, and pointed. “Move.”

Brock hesitated, but slowly kept walking, weighing his options. 

_I really hope this isn’t what I think this is about,_ he thought, glancing at the guards at the front door. They glanced at him for only a moment, giving a curt nod and looking back.

_Doesn’t seem like they were prepared for me._

James led him into the lobby, by a security gate, and into an elevator, where Brock patiently waited at his side while it went up. Brock glanced at the X-rifle in James’ hands, and then back at James. His hand hadn’t left the grip their entire walk, finger incredibly close to the trigger. 

“I’m unarmed,” he said, and gestured to himself. “What exactly do you think I’m going to do?”

He was tapped on the shoulder with the barrel of the rifle. “Eyes forward,” James ordered.

Brock gave a huff. _Come on, give me something,_ he thought, then said. “Commander, hm? Must be a big deal if the big shot himself wants to talk to me.”

“Guess so,” James said, and left it at that.

 _Goddamn it,_ Brock thought, and the elevator pinged.

He was marched through identical white hallways, past other C-Sec troopers and men in suits, all of whom only met his gaze for a second. No recognition, again. Brock still felt the unease of whatever was happening in his stomach. But he was in too deep at this point to run now.

At last, he was turned to walk into a new room -- to his surprise, it wasn’t a cell. Instead, it was an office, with nice carpet and portraits lining the walls. Two other guards were to his right, standing at attention against the far wall, X-rifles in their clutches, glancing at him briefly as he entered.

A bookcase with all sorts of colorful novels and textbooks was behind the main desk, and two flags were dangling from the corners of the highest point. The desk was wide and aged, with polished and well treated dark oak wood -- a luxury in the world after Uliana. 

_Commander, hm,_ Brock thought.

At the desk was a black man, in his late forties, his head shaved fully bald and his eyes staring at some paperwork on his desk. His frame, underneath the suit, showed a bulky and muscular outline, even through the many layers. He scribbled a few letters on one before looking up at Brock, his eyes lighting up as he saw him, glasses coming off.

“Ah, Brock Parr, right?” he asked, pointing at him. “The runner?”

“...who wants to know?”

“Alexander Blake,” he said, and reached a hand out to shake Brock’s. Brock hesitated, then took it. His grip was firm. “I’m the commander of city security.”

“I’ve heard,” Brock said.

“Have you,” Blake replied, and released his grip.

Brock didn’t look directly, but he saw out of the corner of his eye as James took a place against the wall, standing at attention. Brock saw his body language -- he was resting his hand on his rifle, and looking forward, waiting for orders. He was told to stay, but not that far away, with his weapon in hand. That wasn't good.

“What’s this about, then?” Brock asked.

“Well, I had some questions for you,” Blake said, and moved a folder on his desk to procure another one, and gave a glance to Brock. “Is there...anything you’d like to tell me before we get started?”

“No,” Brock said, without hesitation.

“Mmm,” the commander said, and he leaned forward on his desk. “I will be direct, then. Are you one of the new Power Rangers?”

The question was shocking and blunt enough that Brock laughed; it helped cover the panic in his chest that squeezed his heart. “What the hell makes you think I’d be a Power Ranger?”

“One of our troopers heard one of the Power Rangers call another ‘Brock’ a few weeks ago,” Blake said, simply. 

Brock’s stomach sank. _Great. Thanks Nate._

“So, what, you think it’s me?”

“We’ll get there,” Blake said. “But you aren’t, you say?”

“Of course not.”

“Hmm,” Blake said, and he opened the folder in his hand, tossing aside the first page on it. “Well, I pulled your file, and had a hard time finding you in our records.”

Brock didn’t say anything, meeting his gaze.

Blake looked at him, then kept talking. “So I did some digging. Turns out...there is no Brock Parr birth record. Most of your information seems forged,” he glanced up at him. “So...that’s interesting.”

Brock again kept his silence. 

“I did a bit more digging,” Blake continued. “Manually. Took me a while to dig through files this old. But we found one on record that matched your description, from the old pre-war archives,” he held up a photo, one that Brock recognized, of himself but much younger. 

His haircut was dorkier, and his face was clean shaven, a karate gi was tightened around his chest and a black gi belt knotted at his stomach. Brock recognized it; it was a karate tournament he had won forever ago. Brock felt a mixture of elation and panic at the sight; he hadn’t seen that photo in decades, but that Blake had it...

“Am I wrong in assuming this is you?” Blake asked, then paused just long enough to add, “...Rocky DeSantos?” 

_Crap,_ Brock thought, and pressed his mouth into a line. He was caught. 

“So, I use a fake name,” he said, nodding. “So what? Are you going to charge me?”

“Mmm, maybe,” Blake said, and closed the folder. “But I’d like an explanation, first and foremost.”

Brock sighed and gave a little sarcastic look around the room. “Well, I got people who don’t like me,” he said, simply. “That work for you?”

“Is that it?” Blake asked. “Now would be the time if there was anything else.”

Brock’s neck was tense. He knew what was coming; but he needed to think. “What else would there be?” he asked, as neutrally as he could. His eyes kept right on Blake, but he noted the door was sealed, and James was the only one standing by it.

Blake’s response was to open another folder, flipping it open. “Well, for one,” he said, but was cut off as the door to his office opened again.

Brock saw as two more guards walked in -- these ones were elites, and he saw the scabbard-like contraption at their hips wiggling as they walked in, to stand at attention by the door. James moved away to stand closer to Blake. The trap was closing in on him. Brock felt his stomach clench. 

_Crap._

As though nothing had changed, Blake glanced back down at the folder, then back up. “Well, anyway,” he said. “I found records of your life. Apparently you were associated with…” there was a pause, and Brock’s chest clenched as he braced himself for what was coming.

“‘Kat Hillard...Dr. Thomas Oliver...Billy Cranston…”

Brock’s eyes closed shut, and his jaw clenched. There was a yawning hurt in his stomach that twisted hard as the names were listed, one by one. He gave a gentle exhale to calm himself. It didn’t help. Anger boiled up instead.

“...Adam Park...Tanya Sloan...a-”

“ _Yes, and Jason Scott, I get it,”_ he snapped, cutting Blake off. “I know where this is going. Just say it.”

Blake studied his face, noting the fire in his voice and face. “Were you aware that all of them were Power Rangers?”

Brock’s twin impulses were to snap at him further, or maybe note that he didn’t mention Kimmy or Aisha, who were also gone. But he squeezed the anger, pushed it down, and tried to make his voice level. “Maybe I am,” he said. “So what? They’re all dead.”

The commander again read his face, and carefully said, “You must have been close to them.”

“Yeah, I w-” he blurted, and caught himself. He was giving too much away. “What’s your point?”

“Were you a Power Ranger back then?” Blake asked, bluntly.

“Of _course_ not,” Brock said, but his voice was wobbly. He knew he didn’t have the stamina to lie, but he tried anyway.

He was stared at as he spoke for some time, until Blake said, “I don’t believe that.”

“Well, that’s a ‘you problem,’” Brock said. “You’re reaching.”

“Am I?” Blake asked, and put the folder down. 

“Yeah, you are.”

“Think of it from my angle,” Blake said, and sat back, hands folded together. “A little over two weeks ago, you entered my city. The same day, five new Power Rangers appear. I go digging, and I find out not only are you using a fake identity, but were you close friends with several Rangers of old, in a _very_ small friend circle with them. Maybe even a Ranger yourself, with your martial arts background,” he gestured to Brock. “What would _you_ think if you were me?”

“So, what, then,” Brock asked. “You’re asking me to prove I’m _not_ a Power Ranger? How am I supposed to do that?”

“Well,” Blake said, and gestured to him. “What was it you said earlier? ‘That is a you problem’ I believe?”

Brock said nothing, waiting for Blake to respond. He didn’t.

Brock broke the silence. “Well, so then what do we do now?”

“Depends on you,” Blake replied. “Do you insist on being a pain in the ass and refusing to tell me the truth, or am I going to have you brought up on charges and thrown in jail for a few days?”

“You think that’ll help?”

“Possibly,” he replied. “I figure if you’re in custody during an attack, and we don’t see one of the five, well,” he gestured in the air. “That solves it, doesn’t it?”

Brock’s mouth opened to reply, but the worst noise he could have asked for filled the room -- his morpher beeping at him. He flinched, and jammed his fingers into the ‘silence’ button on the top. 

Blake didn’t look even fazed. “What was that?” he asked, and his voice indicated he knew.

“Uh, novelty watch,” Brock lied.

“Was it, now.”

“Yeah,” he said. “In fact, you look pretty silly, by not having one. They’re all the latest rage.”

“Mmm,” Blake said. His gaze didn’t waver. Brock felt the soldiers behind and to his side tense up.

_Time’s up._

Brock’s body tensed in readiness, and his eyes flicked from the desk, to the door, to James, and then to the elite guards. His free arm extended a single digit, about to grip the trigger on his morpher.

The man before him noted his body language, and flicked from eyes to his hand. “I wouldn’t do that,” he warned, and there was a threat to his voice. “That would be a very, very stupid move.”

Brock paused, body locked up, and he slowly relaxed, giving a weak laugh. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “It would. Wouldn’t it?”

The Commander sat forward, and opened his mouth, ready to say something. 

Brock didn’t give him the chance -- his arm shot to his hand and he screamed, “ _Red mandrill jungle power!”_ and struck his fist into the air as fast as he could.

Blake jumped up, a gun clutched in his hand, and he leveled it at Brock as red light swirled around him, and he shouted, “ _Stop him!”_

A Red Ranger burst out of the cloud of red Morphin energy, rushing right into James, who let out a startled cry as Brock grabbed his rifle, giving it a hard pull downwards. James pulled away, and Brock waited the second until he shoved it up, smashing it right into his helmet. 

His helmet gave a ping in the back of his head -- the soldiers across the room had their guns up, and were preparing to fire. His Ranger-augmented reflexes kicked in, and for a second, he almost whipped James in the way -- but he didn’t, and flinched as he braced for impact.

Bullets pummeled up his back, hot pain exploding up his back and shoulder, cushioned only slightly by the protection of the Grid. He twirled, x-rifle in hand and jammed his finger on the trigger, spraying blasts over their heads. Blake hit the ground, ducking under his desk, and the two C-Sec guards dove away also.

He dropped the rifle and meant to rush the door, but one of the armored troopers swung an electrified blade at him, and pain exploded in his side. He collapsed, onto his hands and knees, and went to get up, but another explosion of pain cracked into the side of his helmet. The visor’s HUD flashed red at him, and he tried to stand as another crack of pain burst in his shoulder.

“Goddamn it,” Brock shouted, and his hand came out. “ _Mandrill Bla-OW!”_

The silver spiral sword appeared in his hand, and he ignored the agony his body was in as he slashed up.

Brock made a wild swing for the guard before him, aiming for the electrified weapon in his clutch, and to his surprise and relief the weapon exploded when it made contact with Brock’s grid-powered weapon. The guard let out a cry of surprise and fell back, dropping the worthless blade.

Brock glanced behind himself - Blake was leveling the gun again, and the other guards were getting to their feet, x-rifles in their hands.

 _Time to go!_ Brock thought, and sprung forward in a slam-tackle for the guard he disarmed.

The impact was powerful, as the Ranger-augmented muscles sent both men into the door, and then through it, shattering the hinges and latch and collapsing into a pile on the other side. Brock wasted no time the second he was through; he pushed himself up and broke into a sprint, fleeing at top speed.

He heard, distantly, the sounds of some yelling from Blake’s office. A couple of ordered yells, and one shout of, “Lock down the floor! Mega monster protocol, _now!_ ”

 _Uh oh,_ Brock thought, and he skidded to a halt at the staircase. A metal door suddenly slid shut in front of him, with a loud _bang_ as the reinforced steel landed against concrete. To his left, there was a window, just big enough to fit into, but steel bars covered it. 

“Ahhhh, goddamn it,” he said, and turned his head. The two armored soldiers were running at him, accompanied by Blake with his pistol and the C-Sec troopers with the X-rifles. 

Brock’s head rolled back, and he gave a frustrated sigh inside his helmet, and he said, much louder, “Oh goddamn it!”

His Mandrill Blade went up, glowed with red light, and with a single thrust metal and glass exploded out of the frame. Brock jumped into the windowframe just as pain exploded up his back -- the X-rifles were firing at him.

“Ow!” he yelled, and turned to shout at the soldiers, “Those things _hurt!_ ” And with that, he slid through the window and popped on the other side of it.

Brock looked down for a moment -- just a second -- and suddenly the pavement of the streetcorner rushed at him, and he felt a swoop of nausea and vertigo before he forced himself to look away. HIs eyes were shut tightly and he started to gently sidle along the ledge. 

“God, why did I agree to this?” he said, to nobody. “I was done. I was out. Things were fine. Not good, but fine. And then all this happened. _God._ ”

Brock looked around, trying to think of an escape route. There was no way down, no ladder, and he was at least a hundred feet up. He glanced around. There wasn’t even a building nearby for him to spring to. He gave a shaky exhale of panic and fear.

“Great, now you’re here,” he thought. “Now what? Summon my Zord and hope he gets here in time? Or do I have some sort of-”

An idea came to him, and he glanced at his blade, then down at the building.

“Well, screw it,” he thought, and clutched it tight. He then turned in place, standing on the edge, facing the building, and took a deep, calming breath that didn’t calm him at all.

A C-Sec trooper was halfway out the window, and he saw him struggle to point the rifle at Brock while leaning on the sill. 

_Time’s up,_ he thought, and stepped back.

Wind rushed at him, and he saw the stone walls of the City Security building whip by him. He swallowed the fear and panic and clutched at his blade, counting the windows he saw fly up past him. By the time he got to five, he thrust the blade forward as hard as he could. Chunks of stone exploded at him, pinging off his helmet and arms and rattling his Mandrill Blade in his hand until it felt like the bones in his hands were about to snap off. 

Brock knew he was slowing down, and for a second he thought it was working; and then the blade wrenched at an odd angle, popped out, and he was sent falling again.

He tumbled through the air, blade flying away from his grasp, and he let out a loud expletive as he fell and fell and fell, until he slammed into the concrete, right on his side. 

His whole body exploded with pain, old pains in his back flaring up and his arm going numb. He had broken multiple bones at least; the HUD in his helmet suggested he had dislocated his shoulder too. He was only dimly aware that he was lying in a crater in the concrete, jagged impact lines jutting in all directions away from him.

Brock gave a pained groan, rolling to his front, and using his one good arm to push himself to his feet. Adrenaline and desperation kept him going, and he managed to walk the few feet to scoop his weapon from the ground before starting a hobbling jog, trying his best to ignore the yells behind him as baffled C-Sec troopers and civilians saw a Power Ranger smash into the ground like a stone.

Weakly, he raised his wrist up, and pushed aside his glove to expose the morpher underneath. He pushed the button on it and spoke, “Okay...I’m here. Where,” he grunted as he tried to sit upright and pain shot up his side and stomach. “Nngghh...where’s the fire?”

\--

A giant carrot, with arms and legs and a turret sticking out of the top where the green bushel would otherwise be, ran through the city streets. Civilians fled, giving cries of anguish, and four Power Rangers were in hot pursuit behind it.

“Blue, can you get a shot off?” Allen shouted as he sprinted.

Blaire’s arms rose, bow in hand, and tugged back on an invisible string that formed into an arrow. He skidded to a stop, crouched low, and loosed it.

The turret on the thing’s head turned, and shot the arrow out of the air, turning both bolts into a puff of smoke. The monster’s stride didn’t break, and it gave bizarre little giggles as it ran.

“Aw, come _on,_ ” Allen groaned, but kept running. “Keep after him! Don’t let him get to a power source!”

Soloz’s voice came into their ears. “Rangers, estimating Vegeblaster’s trajectory,” there was a pause. “He is heading for State and 84th, there is a transformer there. Keep in pursuit.”

“State?” Kay said, and skidded to a halt. “Guys, follow me!”

“Kay, come on, we-”

But Kay ignored him, and veered left, breaking into a sprint in the complete wrong direction.

“Wait, you - damn it!” Allen gave up, and kept running. “Ignore her, just keep after him! We can’t let it grow!”

Jessie obliged, but her head turned towards Kay, thinking, _where on earth is she going?_

The three remaining Rangers kept at their run, and Jessie and Blaire kept taking shots when they had a moment. Vegeblaster’s top canon kept sniping at the shots, and he kept running. 

“This is stupid!” Allen shouted, as they rounded a corner. “We’re not getting any-”

But just as he spoke, a black figure jumped out of an alley, club waved over their head. Kay let out a warcry as she swung the Ivorystaff down, as hard as she could, right on top of Vegeblaster.

The monster let out a startled cry, and the turret on his head swiveled to aim at her, but she was too fast and too sudden, and she hit home. The club cracked into the metal of his gun, snapping it in two, and sparks shot out of it as it was turned to scrap.

“Awk!” the monster called, clutching over his head with stubby purple arms. “My turret!”

Kay twirled the Ivorystaff, and reared back with it. “Yeah, well, tough rocks, pal,” she said, and swung for his face. 

It cracked into a spot on his brow, and sparks exploded out of the place near the top of his carrot body. He let out a howl, and before he could react, the other Rangers were upon him; Yellow and Blue pointed their arms at him, and Allen rushed in and slashed at him with both knives. Sparks exploded out of the mark, and Allen ducked out of the way just as the two behind him unloaded on the monster.

A streak of red slashed through the air, just behind the monster. Brock skidded to a halt on the other side of him, sword in hand, falling to one knee as he did. Vegeblaster let out a howl, his whole body locked up, and he tipped over, hitting the ground just as an explosion of sparks and energy erupted from his body. 

Allen, Jessie, and Blaire all let out triumphant yells -- Kay, meanwhile, pointed at Brock, and turned to the others. 

“Wait a second,” she said. “He can do that? Can I do that? I want to do that!”

Brock had picked himself up and started walking over towards the group -- Jessie gave him an apprehensive stare. “Late again,” she remarked. “Where were you this time?”

“Oh, got arrested,” Brock said casually. “C-Sec knows who I am. Then I jumped out a ten story window to get away.”

He was met with silence. Kay didn’t seem to care; the others, however, were not looking at him. Blaire even had his head turned away, and Jessie was giving sidelong looks at Allen.

Brock spread his hands out. “I was!” he said, defensively. “Jumped out a window to get away! I almost broke my shoulder from the fall.”

He looked to Allen for a defense, some kind of support, and after a pause, the Green Ranger spoke up. “I...I mean, he probably is telling the truth,” he added, weakly. “I don’t think he would, you know, lie to us…”

Kay was not so kind -- she bluntly turned to Allen and said, “Didn’t he show up drunk once?”

The silence that hit, and the way every face turned away in discomfort, was almost physical in how it blanketed the space. Brock was quiet a moment, and behind the helmet his mouth was slightly open, scandalized and yet, unable to dispute it.

“I wasn’t-” Brock started to say, then stopped himself. “Okay, you know what? We can talk about this later. C-Sec is going to be here any moment. Let’s move out.”

The run back to the base was accented with piercing silence and discomfort, even as they sprung to higher elevation and jumped from building to building. Jessie felt the awkwardness hang over them all, and quietly pleaded for someone to break the silence as she kept at a jog, Crocoblaster hugged to her chest.

Kay, totally oblivious to the discomfort, was the one who finally did, reliving some of the tension. “That was a pretty cool ambush though, right?” she asked, and pointed at herself with her thumb.

The tension was not long lived -- the Rangers returned to the base, and in no time Brock had sulked off to his room, with the door shut, just as always. The other Rangers, still morphed, filed into the lobby after him, their helmets coming off and their weapons sliding into the rack on the far wall. Kay, meanwhile, kept hers, and walked right up to Soloz with it in hand.

“Hey, big blue face,” she said, and waved the Ivorystaff around. “I just saw the monkey man spear a monster in two with his sword. Can I do that?”

“Each of your weapons has great powers associated with it,” Soloz said, then paused. “I am...surprised, though, as the Red Ranger should have informed you of the abilities of your weapons.”

Kay sighed, and glanced back at the room with a red “1” on the door. “Yeah, he should have, huh,” she muttered.

“We do?” Jessie asked, and held out the yellow-and-silver rifle in her hand. She turned it over, and squinted at it, and tried to capture that same feeling as when she morphed, the weird flexing of the muscle that was in her chest and stomach. “What do I do, then? Do I just-”

A yellow surge of light darted from her arm, down her wrist and right to the gun, which suddenly glowed a bright yellow and grew, losing some of the definitions of the long rifle as it shifted and changed. The barrel expanded, the grip shifted to the top, and the shoulder support rounded out.

By the time the glow faded, Jessie was no longer holding a rifle; she was holding a minigun, with a crocodile’s mouth open at the place where the rotating barrels sat. She gave a giddy gasp and clicked a button on the base -- the barrels begun to rotate, giving a tiny whine as they spun.

“Oh _hell_ yes,” she said, and tugged up on the suddenly heavy bit of artillery, her other hand coming down to grab the second grip on the back, finger tapping at the trigger experimentally. She angled it up, flexing her biceps to test the weight. “I have _got_ to try this one next monster!”

Brock’s door suddenly opened, and he looked around the room, his eyes suddenly alight with intensity. He marched across the room with a powerful stride, coming right to Allen, pointing at him. 

“Kid,” he said, urgently. “I need you to handle a very important mission for me.”

Allen’s eyes went wide, and he glanced around the room, then back to him. “Me?” he asked, mouth slightly open. “I...I mean, of course! What do you need?”

He held out a piece of paper, which held a scribbled address on it, and he said, “I left my beer at the shop when I got arrested. Can you get it for me?”

\--

As the group scattered, going to their rooms, Kay’s mind was full of the day’s events. She walked up to the main command console, putting her hands on it and leaning her weight forward.

“Blue guy,” she said, looking up. “Wakey wakey.”

Soloz’s face flickered back online, looking down at her. “What is it, Black Ranger?” 

“Your map sucks,” she replied, flatly. “I don’t think you know crap about the city. Let me get into your system and tweak some things.”

“I cannot,” Soloz replied. “My systems are delicate and thorough. There would be no reason to tamper with them.”

“You also don’t know the back alleys,” she retorted. “Not like I do. Let me change the maps.”

“Hmmm,” Soloz said, and looked down a moment, then back up. “Your experience as a civilian is very useful to the team, as you demonstrated today. That could be useful at a structural level. I understand your point.”

“Great,” Kay said, with a relieved nod. “So, then, let me in?”

“Stand by,” Soloz said, and his face flickered out.

The screen just above the keyboard before her flickered and shifted, and a wireframe-like image came into focus. Blue lines zigzagged all over the screen, on the dark black background, and as Kay looked at it she realized it was the map she was asking about, and she was looking at Smith St. It was hard to know what was going on -- all the lines looked the same, and it was at a slight angle, which meant it wasn’t even fully top down.

She poked at the screen, right on a spot she recognized -- it reacted to her touch, and popped up a small textbox that sprouted from the street name, with a blinking cursor just under, “Smith St.”

 _Oh, huh,_ she thought. _Neat. There’s actually an alley here that isn’t labeled, I’ll start there._

Kay poked at the space where she knew the alleyway was, then frowned as the text box appeared in the wrong space. She poked at it again; this time, it went too far to the left. The touch screen was incredibly clumsy, and only after a few tries did she land the cursor in the right spot, and typed in, “Alleyway here, one person width.”

Kay then touched away from it, and tried to zoom out -- only to find that it didn’t zoom at all. She again gave a frustrated sigh, and glanced back up. 

Kay looked back up to Soloz’s screen. “Uh…do you have any other methods that don’t, uhm, suck?” she asked.

“That is the human-facing interactive method that exists in my database,” he replied, but his face didn’t return to the monitor. “If you wish to make adjustments another way, use the flashing key.”

Kay looked down on the keyboard; there was one button that was blinking a soft red, and she pushed it once. Suddenly, the wireframe map slid up, and long strings of symbols and text appeared just underneath it.

“Uhhh….what...what am I looking at?” she asked, squinting. “Where’s the real map, here?”

“That is the codebase for the Beacon City map,” his voice said. “If you wish to make adjustments, that is how you do it.”

“I have to... _code_ it?” she asked, her voice going up an octave. “I can’t write code! What do I look like?”

“This is the way to make changes to the maps,” he replied. “If you wish, we could go back to the touch inputs.”

Kay huffed, and gave an irritated groan. “Fine…” she said, and hit the key again. “I’ll...use the crummy touchscreen.”

\--

Allen gave a grunt of effort as he hefted the crate under his arm, tucking it closely against his hip, then digging his fingers into the handle a little tighter. It was heavy; nothing he couldn’t handle, but definitely a little much for one arm. The shopkeeper was surprisingly relaxed about two underage kids picking up beer for Brock, but the note helped and he gave a little handwave of, “glad to hear he didn’t go to jail.” 

Blaire was with him, and he had been quiet the entire way over. Not out of shyness, like usual, but to Allen he got the feeling there was something on his mind. As they walked back, the awkward silence hung over, and Allen saw Blaire look at him, then back.

“So, uh,” Allen managed. “A giant carrot, huh?”

Blaire was so startled he gave a snort of laughter. “Y-yeah, right?” he said. “Man, the kind of weird stuff we have to deal with.”

“From what I’ve heard, that’s the Ranger way,” Allen said. “There’s stories about giant pigs and a soda monster.”

“And it’s that weird crystal-thing, right?” Blaire asked. “The ones Soloz keeps catching with the camera? I wonder if she just…” he shrugged, and made a motion like a baseball pitch. “Hucks it at the city and lets it transform whatever it hits.”

“Would make sense,” Allen replied. “I mean, hell, we fought a wall monster before that.”

Blaire nodded, and went silent a moment, before he turned and said. “So...uhm. Do...do you believe him?”

Allen knew where it was going, and he said, “You mean, Brock, right? About being arrested?”

“Yeah,” Blaire said, and quickly added, “I mean. He’s our leader, and all, but…”

“I think he was honest,” Allen said. “I...I think. I don’t know. That’s a pretty huge lie to tell if so.”

“But...he was hung over, right?”

“I don’t know, Blaire.”

“Do you think he was hung over tod-”

“I _don’t know,_ Blaire,” Allen said, a little more firmly.

“I’m...I’m sorry, this is,” he started to say, but Allen’s expression was dark, and he quieted down, leaving the rest of the apology unsaid.

Allen felt his stomach twist as he looked down at the case in his hands. He knew where the conversation was going, and he didn’t like it. Things were much, much simpler when he was just a Power Ranger with a leader. They were even simpler when Nate’s lust got him thrown out. He didn’t like the idea that Nate was, in his own way, _right._

And if Brock’s unreliability and alcoholism was going to cause them to fail at some point, regardless of his combat skill...

“So, uhm,” Blaire stammered, awkwardly. “I’m...I’m gonna see about what else that bow can do, later. Did you want to practice with them with your daggers?”

“I guess,” Allen said, and looked up as Blaire’s words sank in. “Wait, ‘them’? Who’s ‘them’?”

“The, you know,” Blaire looked around, and quieted down before he said, “The Blue Ranger.”

Allen’s guilt and questions were starting to dwindle, and he peered at his teammate a moment, free hand coming up to point at him. “That’s...that’s _you,_ though,” he said, slowly. 

“No, no,” Blaire said, confidently. “Not me, I mean, the Blue Ranger.”

They kept walking, but Allen’s face was contorted in absolute confusion, mouth slightly open and eyes blinking heavily, trying to parse exactly what it was Blaire was saying. 

“I...but, that’s _you,_ ” he said, again.

Blaire shook his head. “No, no, they’re not me. They’re cool, and talented, and strong. They don’t miss their shots with the bow. I’m just,” he gave a little shrug, staring at his own hands awkwardly. “You know. Me.”

Allen’s confusion wasn’t improving, and he pointed at his teammate, at his wrist. “But, you put that thing on, and you morph, and-”

“And then it isn’t me,” Blaire said, as though it explained anything.

He stared at his teammate’s face, studying it for any deception or amusement. There was none. Blaire was entirely serious. 

_What in the hell,_ he thought, but nodded.

“I...okay,” he said, slowly. “We can...practice together. Him and me, I guess?”

\--

Jessie was wandering back from another good lunch with her mom, this time they worked together to prepare some homemade pizza, with as many toppings as they could conjure on short notice. Some of the delicate stuff, like pepperoni and olives, were expensive to produce but Elsie insisted.

With too much food for them and Jessie’s younger brother off to school, Elsie sent her away with the rest of the pie, “for her new friends.” 

“After all, if none of them could show up for my chicken sandwiches, maybe they’ll show up next time after having this,” Elsie said as she sent her daughter along.

Blaire wasn’t in -- back home with his father, apparently, but Brock and Allen were, both in the kitchen, quietly making slimy food out of the fabricator. The second she slid the oversized plate onto the table, their eyes locked onto it and their mouths fell open at real, crunchy, baked pizza.

“Dig in,” she said, smiling. “Anyone else here?”

Brock’s hands were already clutching at a large slice with extra sized pepperonis, and he gave a point and mouthed something between bites. He was totally unintelligible.

“I think he’s saying, ‘Kay is in her room,’” Allen said, with a half-smile.

Brock gave a quick nod, pointing at him as he kept eating, giving ‘mmm’ noises that were half joyous consumption and half agreement.

“I’ll see if she’s in,” she said, and left the two alone as she wandered back out.

As usual, the blue glow of Soloz’s screen bathed the controls of the main unit, and she walked past to the yellow “3” on the middle doorway, and gave it a quick rap.

“Kay?” she asked, into the door.

There was silence -- she rapped on the door again. Nothing. 

Curious, Kay leaned her ear in carefully, and pressed it to the door. She could hear distant noise, from a tiny speaker, and a low hum of Kay’s voice purring along with whatever she was listening to.

“Kay!” she said, louder. “Food!”

Silence, again. Jessie gave a frustrated sigh and turned away, leaving her to her fate of hunger -- and then her eyes caught one of the monitors. Blue lines jutted across it, and she saw several blocks of text and a few street names. Ones she recognized. 

“Oh,” she said, and stepped closer, reading it more closely. Her eyes scanned the screen, flicking across the names and streets, as well as the notes jotted down. ‘Alley here’, ‘shortcut here,’ ‘jumpable fence.’ Jessie realized what she was looking at, and gave a much louder, “Oh!” 

She glanced at the door, then back at the keyboard, and started typing. 

The Yellow Ranger lost track of time as she plinked at the keyboard, fingers making click-clack noises as she typed away. She was so sucked in that she didn’t notice when a figure walked up next to her, and gave a loud cry of, “What in the _hell_ are you _doing!?”_

Jessie jumped a foot in the air and whipped around -- Kay was glaring at her, mouth open, looking at the monitor then at her. Her hands were up, nostrils flaring and lips curled into a snarl. 

Her heart squeezed at her anger. “I -- I was-”

“Don’t... _touch my stuff!_ ” Kay shouted, and took a great step forward, causing Jessie to let out a squeak of surprise and take two quick steps back, out of her way.

“I’m -- I’m sorry!” Jessie said. “I didn’t -- Blaire usually has --”

Kay looked at the monitor, then at her, and gave a sneer as she said, “What, do you just barge in on _anyone’s_ work as you feel like it? What the _hell!”_

“But-”

“Get lost,” Kay barked, louder this time, hunched over the monitor. “God, what did you even _do!_ Now look at all the stuff I...have to....” her voice trailed off, until she gave a tiny whisper of, “Fix...”

Kay’s eyes flicked over some of the text written into the field, and then back to the upper half with the map. Several strings of code were typed into the lower form, and the map was reflecting the changes. Street names were now more legible, and rotated, and several buildings now had lines cut through them to indicate alleys. 

She gave a perplexed stare, and turned, looking back at Jessie, who was still giving her a timid expression of concern.

“How...how did you,” Kay said, and gestured at the monitor. She was too baffled to put up the tough girl front.

“I, uh,” Jessie said, nervously. “I can program in DashBLU. And MPX, too. A little, anyway.”

Kay looked back at the monitor, still speechless. “Is...that what that is? Dash blue?”

“Yeah, it’s a programming language,” Jessie said, and -- sensing the hostility was waning -- took a step closer, standing a little closer. “I saw the fast-fixes on the screen, and adjusted it in the code base. Are you improving the computer’s map?”

“Yeah,” she replied, and gestured to it. “It’s all...stupid. And bad. So I’m...fixing it, so it sucks less.”

“Why?” Jessie asked, then a realization hit her, and she put her hands together. “Oh! I get it! You know the city better, so you’re adjusting it so we can operate faster with Soloz’s directions! That’s a good idea!”

“Uh, th-thanks,” the Black Ranger replied, and paused. 

Jessie’s body relaxed as she could see the situation was resolved, and Kay’s anger was dissipated. There was a long silence as Kay looked at the monitor, then at Jessie, and avoided her gaze. Jessie could tell there was something on her mind, and she waited, noticing the indecision on her face.

She went to ask, but an amused smile crossed her face as she saw Kay’s indecision, and she decided not to. It was more fun to watch her struggle to say it.

It was a moment before Kay finally spoke, and said, “So you’re, uh, good with that, dumb nerd stuff?” 

“I’m okay,” Jessie replied. “My mom thought I should learn it in high school. It’s just, you know, basic coding stuff. I’m not a pro or anything.”

“Oh,” the Black Ranger said, and looked at the monitor. She looked anguished, and took another pause to speak up again, gesturing to the console, “If you, uh, wanted to work on it, you know…”

She trailed off, and looked at the monitor, then back. The sentence didn’t finish; Jessie gave her an expectant look, her smile growing as she did. She kept waiting, saying nothing, her hands folded together patiently.

“You can just ask, you know,” Jessie prompted gently, and didn’t hide the grin on her face. “That is, if you want my help.”

Kay’s face flushed, and she turned her head. “Sh-shut up!”

Jessie tilted to the side, leaning in a way where Kay couldn’t help but look at her, and didn’t hide her amusement. “Would you like me to offer instead?” she prompted, with a hint of tease to her voice.

“I...I don’t care,” Kay said, reflexively, but her expression said she did.

“I would be more than happy to help you, then,” Jessie said, and gave her a smile. “And I brought home made pizza if you want some.”

Kay’s expression was flushed, and refused to meet her eyes, and she only gave a quiet, frustrated, “Shut up. You...you dweeb.”

Jessie nodded a little, and tried -- and failed -- to repress the amusement on her face as she allowed Kay a small amount of dignity. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @dashWallkick


	5. The Sixth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uliana and the Rangers clash for the first time as they assault the Imperial Castle. Uliana escalates the conflict with a relic from her past.

Brock awoke around just before noon, a dull throb of his head indicating he was sober again. That wasn’t fun; he was running low on beer and he might have to actually confront the dull aches of his body and mind unmedicated.

_ Ugh,  _ he moaned, and turned over. 

Sleep didn’t come to him again, despite his stubborn efforts to return back to it. HIs upper shoulders were tense and his stomach growled. Brock sighed as he pulled himself up to a sitting position, preparing the long and difficult effort of getting out of bed with a broken body and a foggy brain.

He gave a groan and ran a hand over his head, and stumbled up enough to get into a sitting position. His world felt hazy and pained, and there was also the deep in the chest desire to just sleep forever. Brock had gotten pretty good at dragging himself through that, especially when he needed food, like right now.

He stumbled, numbly, to a spot on the floor where a mostly-clean white tee shirt laid, and he tugged it down over his broad chest. It didn’t fit quite right; he didn’t remember how long he had it. But it worked enough as an undershirt that he grabbed a red checkered button up over it. He had just gotten his jeans up over his thighs when a thought hit him.

_ I didn’t bathe yesterday, _ he thought, then shrugged.  _ Ugh, whatever. I don’t have it in me today. _

Dressed, Brock gave a minimal-effort sweep of his hand over his head, flattening out the salt-and-pepper bedhead just slightly. He looked like garbage, and felt like it, but Brock was used to that, and forced himself to straighten his back and pretend he wasn’t as he opened the door.

To his surprise, the Rangers were in a huddle near the terminal, all four dressed and awake and here. Even Jessie, in a cute summer dress, looked to be in serious mode. Allen was speaking, and his hands were out, gesturing as he talked, but he stopped when he noticed the Red Ranger wandering out of the base.

“Oh, perfect timing,” he said, and gestured him over. “Brock, we were just talking strategy.”

“Ah, super,” Brock said, and didn’t attempt to fake enthusiasm. 

Kay looked at him, then at Allen. “Since we’re short a leader right now,” she said, and didn’t hide the pointed stare in his direction. “Greenie here had a suggestion.”

Allen gestured a hand towards the Zord bay doors. “We got a Megazord, right?”

“I mean, theoretically,” Blaire said, meekly. “We haven’t done it yet.”

“And, we know where the castle is, right?” he continued.

Brock hesitated a moment, then glanced between them. “I...guess we do,” he said, slowly.

“Well, then, why are we bothering playing defense?” Allen said, and spread his hands out. “Let’s take the fight to the Emissary. We beat on her front door with a giant robot, I think the war is pretty much over, right? How many monsters and clayheads can she send after us at once?”

“You’d be surprised,” Brock replied. “This seems more than a little reckless.”

“How would we know?” Allen asked, and gestured to Kay. “Come on, help me out here.”

“Greenie isn’t wrong,” the Black Ranger replied, with a little shrug. “Sure, she’s probably going to have defenses set up, and she’s probably got monsters on standby. But why not see what she can do? We can just play it careful, see what she’s got, and run if things get too rough.”

They were bathed in blue light as Soloz’s head appeared on the monitor near where they were standing. “I would advise against this action, Rangers,” he said, his voice booming through the base. “You must defend the city against her. She is too powerful to attack directly.”

Brock was leaning against the control console at that point, and he glanced from Soloz to them. “Not to mention we don’t even have good intel as to what she can do,” he said.

“All the more reason to find out,” Kay countered. “I mean, what do we know so far? That she’s...strong? Wait,” she turned to the others. “Does she even fight?”

“She’s a sorceress,” Brock said. “And she’s had a long time to learn. And she’s got front line muscle. So this isn’t what I would call ‘easy.’”

Jessie gave him an odd stare. “How...did you know all that?”

He waved a hand. “Just things I heard,” he said, dismissively. 

Kay jumped in; “All the more reason we need to figure out what her deal is,” she urged. “And what, are we gonna post one of us outside the castle and just have them look through some binoculars? Come on.”

“Rangers, this is a bad idea,” Soloz said again. “I urge you all to stay here and-”

“Okay,” Brock said, and gave a little nod. “Let’s Ranger up and get out there.”

Allen’s face brightened, even if his face registered a little shock. “Uh, really?”

“Yup.”

“Brock, I implore you to reconsider,” Soloz said, and his voice was a little harsher and louder than normal, almost angry. “Your Rangers are not ready, and the Emissary-”

“Shhhh,” Brock said, and waved a hand at the screen. “I get it. But they’re right. Gotta find out more about her eventually. Maybe if we catch her off guard we can do some damage. It’s a good plan.”

Soloz didn’t speak a moment, and through the hazy outline of the monitor, Allen saw his face grow stern and frustrated. He looked mad a moment, then he said, “Very well. I cannot stop you. But this is a mistake.”

“Noted,” Brock said, and turned to the rest. “Shall we?”

\--

A half hour later, morphed up, five Rangers sat in their respective Zords, controls pointed towards the place where they knew the Golden Empire’s base was. They spent the travel time chatting briefly, trying to keep their minds off the threat they were barreling towards at top speed. Brock didn’t speak much; nobody asked him why.

“Okay, this is probably close enough,” Brock said, and punched a few buttons on his controls. “Let’s do this. Everyone ready?”

Five calls of ‘ready’ came back through his speakers.

“Alright, let’s do it,” he said, and turned to jam his fist into a large black button to his upper left. “ _ Form the Megazord _ !”

Kay’s Elephant Zord ground to a halt suddenly, and she gave a startled ‘woah!’ as things shifted in the cockpit around her, and suddenly she was one entire solid mass, legs folded up inside itself. Jessie also let out a startled yelp as her own Zord suddenly leaned forward and planted the crocodile mouth on the ground, the treads retreating inside and the tail merging into the back.

Brock’s Mandrill jumped, springing from its arms, and planted both feet into slots on both of the girl’s Zords, forming legs.

Allen’s Zord moved entirely on its own, bucking his hands on the controls, and he watched as his Viper coiled up around the pressed-together pair of Zords that made up the legs, sliding up until it reached the shoulders -- whereupon his Zord disconnected in the middle, and each segment clicked into each arm, forming a glove on one hand and a viper’s maw on the other.

His cockpit suddenly shot upward, and before he could even notice what was around him, the other Rangers were around him, each of them sitting at their controls, in one Megazord cockpit.

“Megazord, online,” Brock said, and held his controls tightly before adding, “...not bad.”

\--

The Imperial Castle once was the home of the entire Golden Empire forces, located on the outskirts of the mountain range that was no more than a few miles from Beacon City. A decade ago, it was high and proud, a six-tier stone castle made of bright grey brick. At one point, crimson banners were hung from the highest peaks, and golden patterns were danced in the center. At the height of the Empire, it was the hub of monsters, clayheads, and organization.

That was some time ago. Now, time and weather slowly wore away at the bright stone until it was faded and grimy. Something in the foundation shifted with an earthquake, and it tilted slightly on its side. More than one outer spire had collapsed completely, and the banners had long ago fallen to pieces. 

Jutting out of the mountain range, it looked like a massive cancerous lump splitting apart the brown-and-green speckled mountains. The area around the castle looked blighted -- the earth grew no plants, and even the brown of the hills and dirt looked faded and ghastly. There was no life there; not animal or plant.

But one woman still occupied the castle. At the highest peak, kneeling among a pile of wires, crystals, runes, and whatever other instruments, was Uliana. She was still dressed in her gown, which was a dark tan color, and had excess bits that hung off her wrists and had a train that dragged on the floor. Jewelry and bangles decorated it at her neck and arms. 

Uliana had taken off the tiara some time ago as she got warmer. Her black hair was tied neatly into a braid behind her head.

_ I hate it up here, _ she thought, but went back to work all the same, even as she paused to wipe some sweat from her brow.

She held up a tiny crystal, no bigger than a finger length, and pointed a finger at it. Uliana spoke a word, and fire erupted from her fingertip in a single beam. She guided it in an intricate pattern, carving a glyph of pattern into the crystal. After a few seconds, she put her hand away, and leaned back to admire her handiwork.

“This should do,” Uliana said, and rotated it in her hand.

Then, reaching down, she picked up a stone slab, one with a tiny crescent hole in the front, and gently slid the crystal into the slot. A sparkle flashed over the whole object, and runes along the spine began to glow.

The sorceress didn’t have much time to appreciate her handiwork; there was a noise like an explosion just near her, and she gave a great cry of surprise as the tablet jumped in her hands, and she fumbled to clutch it close to her chest. 

“What on earth,” she whispered, and stood. She carefully stepped away from the cables and artifacts and circuit boards at her feet, and ran a quick set of steps over to the edge, and peered over the stone railing.

A multicolored robot made up of animals was standing a good mile away from the Imperial Castle, arm outstretched and the viper's head on its fist open. A column of white fire was belching from the throat, and it was hitting her castle, shaking it to its core.

Uliana gave a frustrated sigh, and put a hand to her face. “Ugh,” she whispered. “This is  _ way  _ ahead of schedule.”

\--

“Not a bad volley,” Allen said, tapping his controls. “I can output more, if you want.”

“Have at,” Brock said. “We can soften them up a bit before-”

“Wait, what’s that?” Jessie asked, and pointed.

Barely visible, just outside the front doors of the stone castle that was merged into the mountain, a lone figure stood, some of the gems and the scepter they held glinting in the sunlight. 

“That’s Uliana,” Brock said. Then, a second later, he added, “It has to be. I heard about that crescent moon scepter. That has to be her. Allen, hit her again.”

“You got it,” he said, and jammed a fist into his controls.

Another beam of energy belched from the cannon in the right hand of the megazord, focusing into a beam that lanced right for the figure in the robes. The blast engulfed her, and for a second, Brock thought to himself,  _ That was easy. _

But then the beam suddenly twisted upward, shooting totally clear of the Emissary. As it faded, she was still there, her hands and the crescent moon scepter held aloft, discs of glowing purple light emanating from her palms.

“Uh, wow,” Jessie said, quietly. “Did...did we know she could do that?”

“Let’s get in there,” Brock said, and gunned the controls forward.

The megazord’s feet made deafening  _ boom boom boom _ sounds as it ran full tilt for the Imperial Castle. They were less than a few dozen yards away, and the outline of Uliana was more visible as they ran. She wasn’t moving; she was waiting, and watching them.

_ What is she planning, _ Brock thought, then turned to the others. “Okay. Here’s the plan. We get inside, and swing for her. Mayb-”

Lightning suddenly jumped from nowhere in the air into the megazord, and the entire machine seized up, violently jerking away and stumbling back. The Rangers inside all were tossed violently through the cockpit, Kay’s helmet cracked into the panel to her right and Allen slipped out of his chair onto the floor.

Smoke wafted out of the megazord as it slowly inched down, onto one knee. Power flickered and died in the controls; lights dimmed and faded out. 

“We’re losing power!” Allen shouted. “Whatever that was, it took us down to twenty percent.”

“What the hell was that?” Jessie shouted, holding her shoulder. “What did we just get hit with?”

“Some kind of...barrier, I think,” Blaire muttered, quietly. He tapped a few buttons on the panel before him. “I...I think she’s got protection magic around the castle.”

“Why didn’t it stop the blast, then?” Kay asked, touching her head lightly.

“I don’t know, I think it’s just for Zords,” Blaire said, and pointed at a screen to his right. “It isn’t reacting now that the Megazord is down.”

“Then we’re on foot,” Brock said, and shakily stood up out of his chair. “We can use it to retreat if it comes to it. Come on.”

The Rangers piled out of the fallen Zord, and made the on-foot trek to the castle. It was no more than the length of a football field, and whatever protection magic that hit the Megazord didn’t react to them.

The Emissary was there, some distance away, slowly walking towards the five Rangers. There was a figure at her side, too, what seemed like some kind of full-plate clad soldier. 

She raised a hand, and tiny rocks scattered from her hands. The rocks ballooned in the air, bulging and shifting like living bags, and by the time they hit the ground they had already quadrupled in size. Then she spread another handful.

“Clayheads,” Brock said. “Everyone, weapons at the ready.”

All five struck their hands in the air and called for their Jungle Weapons.

The clayheads were formed, and stretched their arms out as they grew to full size. There had to be at least fifty of them. Some started marching forward, and slowly started to run faster.

They would be on them in moments; there was only the length of a football field in their way. “So what are we thinking?” Allen prompted, eyes forward.

“Allow me,” Jessie said, and took a breath, her gun held out in her arms.

The handle of her Crocoblaster glowed, and the light slowly enveloped the whole thing, from butt to barrel. It changed, growing and elongating and the barrel expanding out, until it was a multi-barrel chaingun.

Brock glanced at her, and his eyes flicked wide as he looked at the monster of a weapon in her hands.

“Woah,” he said, appreciatively. “By all means.”

Jessie took a few steps forward, planted herself into the ground, and clicked the trigger.

The barrel started to spin, giving a high pitched whine, and a second later, yellow light exploded out of the tip in a spray. Jessie’s hands began to shake and she let out a yelp of surprise as it almost kicked out of her hands, but she gripped it tight and kept it straight as she could.

The bullets that shot out of the tip were wild and hard to aim correctly, but for every two shots that missed, one blasted a hole straight through a clayhead, sending clay parts every which way. Soon, Jessie’s Crocoblaster had chewed up dozens of the things. The ones left were getting closer.

“Get ready!” Brock shouted.

They were only about ten feet away, and Jessie finally released the trigger, and pointed her gun away.

“Go!” Brock shouted, and the two groups clashed.

\--

Uliana watched the fight; the clayheads were outmatched, and greatly so. Each Ranger was much more skilled than the last time she saw them. The Red Ranger was as efficient as ever, but the others had gotten their act together too. She remembered the clumsy way the Blue Ranger fought, and he or she was unrecognizable now. They hopped away, and snapped off quick shots with the bow, then rushed in close to plant a quick kick to clear some space.

“Emissary,” The Knight said, turning to her. “Let me join them. Our forces are-”

“No,” she said, sharply. “Stay where you are. And let me focus.”

“Our troops are losing, and badly.”

“Let them,” Uliana said, and she didn’t look away. “I want to know how skilled they are.”

“You’re...testing them?” the Knight asked. 

She nodded. “I was going to anyway, but they were kind enough to come knock on my door instead. So...why waste the opportunity?”

“I...I see,” the Knight said, but there was a confusion to his voice.

Uliana paid him no mind. The Knight didn’t need to understand, he only needed to follow orders. And he was very very good at that. And so she ignored him, and waited, and watched the Rangers.

\--

The battle was neither intense nor difficult, and as such, the Rangers were reveling in it. Allen cut through two clayheads, his daggers shattering their heads with a single stroke. Blaire’s bow was landing shots that either slowed, stunned, or shattered the Rangers. Kay was an animal, swinging the Ivorystaff like it was a club and not a bo, cracking apart everyone he could. And Jessie, gun discarded, was using some basic punches and kicks with surprising effectiveness.

Soon, the ground was littered with shattered clay limbs. Allen gave a triumphant laugh and flipped one of his blades in the air. “Wow,” he said, and caught it as it fell. “That was easy.”

Brock had his sword on his shoulder, and he was looking straight ahead. The two figures were walking closer. “It was,” he said. “Too easy.”

“What do you mean?”

He pointed. The two figures in the distance were walking closer, slowly. 

“She’s not attacking,” he said. “She’s sizing us up.”

By the time the duo were only two dozen feet away, they came to a stop, and she brought the crescent scepter to her side, casually planting it in the ground. The Knight stood entirely still at her side, just behind her, like a dog patiently waiting for its owner to give a command. His bronze and tan armor glinted in the sun, and the red cape behind him fluttered slightly in the warm breeze.

“Hello Rangers,” Uliana said, glancing at them all one by one. “I had wondered when you’d be dropping by.”

“That’s the Emissary of Gold?” Kay asked, pointing, head turned to Brock. “She looks so…”

“Young?” Allen said. “I was expecting someone way older. Like,  _ really _ old.”

“She’s cute,” Jessie said, and there was admiration in her voice.

Four Power Rangers turned to her. Their faces were unreadable through the helmets, but their body language said it all.

She looked at them, and gave an indignant shrug. “What?”

Brock pointed his Blade at Uliana. “You in charge, I take it?”

“I am,” she replied.

“Great,” he said, and brought his weapon up across his chest. “Then I only have to kick  _ your _ ass to end all this.”

Brock leaned forward to break into a run -- he had no sooner raised his foot than Uliana’s hand rose and an arc of lightning exploded out of her fingertips, catching Brock right in the chest and sending him hurtling away.

“Sorry, what was that?” she asked. “I didn’t hear.”

Brock groaned in place, arms slightly raising as he turned onto his side. A smoking blast mark on his chest sizzled slightly.

“Now then,” Uliana said, and turned around. “I have things to do. If you don’t mind, I’d ask you to leave the premises. But since I know you will refuse…” she turned and patted the Knight on the shoulder. “I’ll leave this to you.”

And with that, she walked away, letting the drag of her dress slide along the ground as she left.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Allen shouted. “We’re not done here, you-”

The armored soldier took a step towards them, blocking the path between Uliana and the Rangers.

“Power Rangers,” the soldier boomed, spreading his arms. “I am the Knight of Doors. It is an honor to meet you in battle this day. I have long awaited the opportunity to face you, and the Emissary has given me permission.”

Kay looked at him, then at the others. “‘The Knight of Doors?’” she asked, and pointed at him. “Is this guy serious?”

“Look, we don’t have any issue with you,” Allen said, his hand up. “We don’t have t-”

“Are you ready to fight?” the Knight asked, curtly, and reached behind himself. A shield with a keyhole in the center slid into his left hand, and from his hip he drew a blade with a hook in the tip.

“I, woah, hang on, we don’t-” Allen started to say.

The Knight took a step forward, and brought the sword and shield to bear. “Then let us do combat.”

And then the Knight was upon them, taking three mighty steps that sent him through the air faster than Allen could react. He slashed at the ground where they stood, and black energy exploded from the tip of his blade, creating a shockwave that sent all Rangers flying away, each of them letting out startled cries as they hit the ground.

“Weapons up!” Allen shouted, and his Viperfangs were in his hands. “Go, go!”

He was on his feet, and brought his blades to bear, and the Knight gave an agile spin, slashing right for him, but low. Allen saw it coming, and hopped over, daggers up -- and he was caught in the stomach by a metal boot as the Knight twirled and kicked him. He let out a pained grunt and hit the ground. 

Blaire fired off two quick arrows, and they hit home right on the Knight’s back. He turned, and made a step towards him, but Kay jumped in the way, bringing the Ivorystaff to bear and swinging it down on him, hard. The blade came up to block it, and he shoved hard against her to push her back. 

Allen and Brock were on their feet, and rushed him. The Knight spun his shield to block Brock’s Mandrill Blade, but Allen’s daggers went for his stomach, and he thrust them both in hard and slashed out with each. Sparks flew; he let out a grunt, and kicked, but Allen kept away from the blow with a quick block.

Kay reared up to club him in the back, but he suddenly spun in a tight whirlwind, whipping the shield and blade in all directions. She let out a cry and ducked beneath his sword, but Allen was not so lucky and caught the shield in the face when he went in to attack.

Brock swung again; the Knight blocked it, and thrust right for his gut, in the mark Uliana made earlier. Sparks exploded out as the Ranger suit sent energy there to protect him, but it wasn’t enough to stop the explosion of agony in his lungs and back. He stumbled back, holding his chest.

“Okay, screw this,” Kay yelled, and gripped her staff with both hands. Grey energy started to glow from her hands, engulfing the ram headed end, and she let out a warcry and swung with all her might. 

The Knight spun and put up his shield to block it; there was a sonic boom as Kay’s weapon connected, and the dark light that engulfed the Ivorystaff rushed into the shield and the Knight. The ground cracked beneath his feet, and his metal boots sank into the ground.

But he didn’t even flinch. His helmet looked up at her.

“A mighty hit,” the Knight said. “But for naught.”

To Kay’s shock, he suddenly shot into the air, several feet above her, and she only managed to let out a startled gasp before bringing her staff in the air to protect herself. The Knight’s blade connected, and it suddenly blasted free from her hands and shot into her, sending her to her knees.

“That is-” the Knight said, but Kay sprung up in a wild, frantic uppercut that connected to his jaw. He let out a low ‘unh’ and staggered back. 

Kay’s surprise and relief was in her body language, and she let out a laugh. “Not so tough are y-” 

The Knight’s shield came up, and with a huge step forward it cracked into her face, and she let out a grunt and staggered back.

“Kay!” Jessie shouted. Her Crocoblaster had changed into a chaingun, and the barrels at the front had begun spinning up. “Everyone get clear!”

“Jessie, no, wait!” Brock shouted, but she clicked the trigger. The Knight spun in place and brought the shield up to face her, and fell into a low crouch behind it.

Kay dove away as a hail of yellow streaks filled the air, and the gun rang out a rapid  _ budda budda budda budda _ as it pummeled the Knight’s shield with bullets. Jessie’s hands vibrated as the thing unleashed hellfire, and she struggled to keep it aimed at him as it kicked back at her. 

Bullets were hitting the shield, and the Knight was down, but the ricochet from the shield sent yellow light everywhere, up and down and every which way. Clouds of dirt before him burst up, and several streaks pounded into Kay. She let out a cry of pain and crumpled, just as one cracked into her helmet, sending her down.

Jessie let out a gasp, and her hand let go of the trigger. “K-Kay!” she shouted.

“Don’t look away fr-” Allen tried to shout, but the Knight was already on her, and his blade cut through the air.

The Ranger’s energized suit kept her from being gutted, but the blade hit her in the sternum in a powerful thrust that knocked the wind from her and sent her crumpling away. Sparks from the suit exploded out. The Crocoblaster changed back into a rifle as it sailed through the air, clattering to the ground.

“Now that that’s managed,” the Knight said, turning to the others, but Brock was hurtling at him, his Blade glowing a hot red as he rushed for him, yelling a warcry.

The Blade met the Knight’s shield -- their collision caused a deafening  _ boom  _ that rattled them both, sending wind whipping away from the Red Ranger and over the animated armor before him. The Knight’s bright red cape jumped out in the wind and debris and dirt shot through the air behind him.

“A respectable thrust,” the Knight said, and gave a shove away, pushing Brock off.

The Knight’s blade glowed black, and he cut for Brock’s body. Brock managed to block the blade’s swing, but the impact sent him skidding away, and he let out a pained cough as he went down on one knee. He was fighting through it, but getting shot with lightning in the chest had stirred up his old wounds, and the Knight was incredibly tough.

_ This isn’t working, _ he thought, and turned his head.

“Get everyone to the Megazord!” he shouted. “I’ll hold him off!”

Kay was on her feet, wobbling slightly, Ivorystaff clutched in her fist. “I...I can st-” she managed to utter before she took a single step and fell to her hands and knees. She was disoriented, dazed, and the black tusk-rimmed helmet shook in an effort to clear her mind.

The Knight raised his shield, and thrust hard at Brock -- Brock deftly sidestepped it, and cut upward. Sparks flew off the impact of metal on metal, and he stepped in between the man of metal and Kay’s kneeling form.

“Allen, go!” he shouted, louder.

Allen didn’t question him -- his daggers vanished and he jumped to Kay, scooping her up under her arm and helping the dazed woman to her feet. They hobbled along.

Two quick blue streaks through the air caught the Knight in the back, and he let out a growl and turned, shield held out towards him. “There’s always a pest,” his voice boomed.

Brock moved in, and slapped the Knight’s blade away, planning on thrusting at his core while he was distracted. The Knight deftly spun in place, however, and his Blade clashed against the metal of his shield. His sword arm cut through the air, forming a slash of black energy. 

Blaire let out a cry of surprise as he ducked away, but too late -- it smashed into his arm, sending him and the Hawkbow to the ground as he clutched at the spot. The arm was bent at an odd angle, and he could hear Blaire sucking in a breath as he touched it lightly.

The Knight turned to Brock, and both shield and sword aimed at him. “I am not normally the kind for brawls,” he said, and his sword aimed for the Red Ranger. “I prefer my opponents one on one. But I do as my emissary wishes.”

“You got your own wishes in there,” Brock asked, trying to stall. “Or are you just a puppet for that witch?”

“I am not a puppet, I am her will, made manifest,” the Knight replied, with pride. “I wish for the Empire to be restored.”

“The hell does  _ that _ mean,” Brock yelled, and rushed in, swinging wildly.

“The Emissary will rebuild what was once strong,” the Knight said, and he took a step closer. “She will remake what was broken. And you will not stop us, Power Ranger!”

They clashed -- and just as they did, he felt an arm curl around his chest. 

“Wh-” he managed to say aloud, before the world suddenly whisked him away.

The Knight, alone, looked around, then behind himself -- the fallen Blue Ranger had vanished, and as had the Yellow Ranger. He gave a small snort of amusement, and slid both his weapons in their holsters.

“Until we do combat again,” he said, to nobody in particular.

\--

When Brock landed on the ground, he staggered in place, giving a wild stare around, wondering what monster or magic had suddenly swiped him out of a fight. But all he saw was the kneeling Megazord, and his four Rangers, wounded and hurting. Blaire released him from the grip he had around his midsection. 

“What...what was-” he managed to say.

“The Hawkbow apparently has a short-range teleport power,” Allen said, and pointed at the Blue Ranger. “Blaire got us out.”

“I, uhm,” Blaire said, and flinched a little. “S-sorry if that was bad. I just, he said-”

Kay gave an annoyed sigh, still holding her head, and said, “Ugh, stop apologizing, it’s getting annoying.”

“You did what I ordered,” Brock said, pointing at him. “Don’t apologize. For now, let’s just...get back to the base.”

They didn’t say anything as they all limped into the cockpit and started the megazord back up, preparing for a long and awkward walk home.

The grid that coursed through their suits gently healed their broken bodies in the trip. Most of them were quiet on the way over; the loss was humiliating, and it wasn’t even to the foe they had to beat to end the war. By the time they were back and the Zords were docked in the bay, they had almost fully recovered. 

Brock spent a bit of time in his room, lying on his front, waiting for the aching feeling across his back to fade. The muscles had tensed up again -- turns out being shot with lightning also got his back hurting again.

He dozed off to sleep; a few hours later, still without any alcohol in the base, he awoke only feeling mildly better.

_ Ugh,  _ he groaned, and rolled out of bed.  _ Well. I napped. Now what. _

\--

Allen always stayed in the chamber; he didn’t have much else to do besides Ranger duties, and between eating and poking at his Viper Zord and doing some basic workouts and practicing his martial arts, there wasn’t much recreation in the place. Plus, he had no money

_ Well, I guess I’ll see if I can poke at my Zord more, _ he thought, and he trudged off to do so, moping as he walked towards the Zord Bay doors. 

Then, to his surprise, he heard a clank of metal, like a wrench set being dropped. Then he heard a swear. 

“Brock?” he asked, as he crept in.

The team lead was kneeling down next to the motorcycle that was propped against the wall, his hands covered in oil and grease. He had discarded his top long ago, and sweat stains and smeared black streaks lined the white undershirt. A few parts laid on the ground, ones Allen couldn’t parse to save his life.

“Oh, hey,” Brock said, and nodded at him. 

“Is that your bike?” Allen asked. 

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding. “She’s my girl, and she’s long overdue for a real deep repair.”

“I’ll say,” Allen replied, with a grin. “It looks like a real piece of sh-”

Brock’s head turned, giving him a stare, eyebrows raised.

“Work,” he added, quickly. “A real piece of work.”

His leader gave a snort. “Good save,” he said, and his fingers dug back into the deep core of the engine.

“What’re you doing, anyway?” Allen asked, and walked a little closer to lean down. 

“Well,” Brock said, and his voice strained with effort as he gripped something small with his fingertips and pulled. “She’s been patched back together more times than I can count. I’m taking all the old busted garbage I slapped in ‘just for the next job’ and-”

A piece came free, very suddenly, and Brock let out a yelp as he fell back, a tiny bit of metal no longer than a finger popped out of his grasp. Allen quickly crouched to slap a hand on the piece as it bounced across the blue tiled floor towards him.

Brock gave a groan and put a hand to his shoulders and didn’t move for a second. Allen took a few steps closer.

“You okay?” he asked. “Is it from before?”

“Old karate injury,” Brock said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Allen’s hand came out; Brock was not too proud to take it, and Allen pulled him to his feet.

“Anyway, come to find out, Soloz can fabricate simple parts,” he said, and held up the item. “So I’m swapping them out.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Allen said, and glanced at the bike. It was an old, conventional, standard style of motorcycle that ran on the standard fuel cell. Allen had seen runners use them hundreds of times, even if this one was a little older than most he’d seen before.

An idea came to him, and he turned back. “Hey, you know,” he said, thumbing at it. “We could always slap some Ranger tech in there. Pump the morphin grid into it and see what kind of powers it ge-”

“No!” Brock shouted, suddenly, and much louder than Allen expected. “No, no more Power Ranger garbage, God.”

Allen visibly deflated, and he looked away. “It was, uh,” he muttered, and gave a tiny shrug with his hands. “Just an idea.”

Brock saw the pain on his face, and the disappointment, and his guilt started to touch at his heart. 

“It’s...it’s fine,” he said, weakly. “Sorry for snapping at you. I just...don’t…want to do this forever, is all. All of,” he gestured around the room. “This.”

“Oh,” Allen said, more carefully. “I mean...it’s a lot of work, but. I think it’s great.”

Brock nodded. “Yeah, well, you’re young,” he said, nodding. “I’m fifty in a couple years. I’ll be in the grave soon if I keep this up.”

“I’d be fine with doing this forever,” Allen said. “I mean...I’ve wanted to do this since I was a kid.”

“Not so fun now, is it?”

“It still...kinda is,” Allen said, but his voice grew meek. “But that’s fine. I like it.”

Brock walked over to a crevice in the wall, and placed the item in it. He saw a bit of Grid energy encase the item, and then a second later, Brock picked up a wholly new one out of the space. 

Brock gave the young man a glance, and again felt the guilt of his short temper when it came to Power Rangers business flickering to the surface.  _ Don’t get involved, _ he thought, but Allen’s face was dark with anxiety and worry.

_ Goddamn it,  _ he thought, but he said, “So, uh...anything on your mind?”

“I just...feel kinda bad,” Allen said, glancing back out of the Zord Bay. “This whole dumb thing was my idea. And it...sucked.”

“Oh, that’s it?” Brock said, and gave a laugh. “Trust me, kid, you’re not thinking clearly. We went to get intel, we got it. Queen’s tough, so is her iron boy. She’s got an anti-Zord magic field. That’s good to know.”

Brock had since knelt down and dipped the part in some grease, then started to wrench it into place. Allen gave a noise of confusion. “You don’t...think they-”

“No, they don’t blame you, and they don’t resent you,” Brock said. “Hell, they probably blame me for it more than anything. Or themselves. You know Kay, she’s probably pissed she didn’t get to kick the tar out of that Knight guy.”

“I hope so,” Allen muttered, and sighed. “Being a leader sucks.”

Brock gave a short laugh. “Ain’t that the truth,” he said back.

Allen’s ears perked up. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Ah, no,” Brock said, quickly. “But leadership was never my thing. I suck at it. But I guess I don’t need to tell you that, huh?”

“I mean, you’re not so bad,” Allen said. “You mean well. And we’re all figuring it out, right? If Jessie and Blaire have to learn how to fight then you gotta learn how to lead.”

Brock gave him a look, half of surprise and half of disbelief. “You really think that?” he asked, with a little bit of a condescending tone. 

Allen’s face was entirely sincere, and there was even a look of respect in his eyes, even despite everything Brock had done, despite all of Brock’s failures. “Of course I do,” he said. “You’re our Red Ranger. You picked us.”

“I...I didn’t  _ pick _ you,” Brock countered. “You were just in the right place at the right time.”

“Sure, but,” Allen replied, and pointed at him. “You were too, right?”

Brock had no answer for that; he tried to think of something to say, to rebut the notion, but instead all he managed was a long bit of silence and, “N-no, that…”

“Then...how did you become the Red Ranger?” 

Brock gave a gruff sigh, and turned to work on the bike some more. “Okay, fine,” he said. “You got me there.”

“You’re a great Ranger,” Allen said.

“I’m not, but…thanks.”

There was a pause, and for the moment there was just the sounds of Brock quietly tinkering with his motorcycle.

Then, a second later, he said, “You know any way of getting me another 12 pack?”

\--

Uliana sat on her throne. The five colored lights traced around the orb in the center of the room, and she rapped her fingernails on the arm of the chair. She was gazing into a screen before her, a monitor built out of tech and electricity and not magic, as it played footage of the battle, watching the Rangers fight the Knight.

She gave a small ‘hmm’ as she watched it, and made a gesture in the air. The footage stopped, rewound, and started again. 

The Knight stood at her side, hands on the hilt of his blade, watching intently. “It was a glorious battle, was it not?” he asked, proudly. 

Uliana gave a small ‘mmm’ as she stared at the footage longer. It played again, and paused, right on a still frame of the Black Ranger swinging the staff weapon up, hard. Uliana traced the outline of the Ranger’s body, curiously.

Then, at last, she said, “The Black one...do they look…” she paused, and tilted her head. “Different?”

“How so?”

“I don’t know,” the Emissary said. “They look...feminine.”

“I...believe they were a male before,” he said, and turned to her. “Why?”

At that, a look of glee suddenly came over her face, and she let out a very delighted cry and jumped up, clapping her hands. “They replaced the first Black Ranger!” she shouted, and suddenly trotted away, hurriedly. “This is perfect!”

She walked down the spiral staircase, taking two at a time, one hand clutching at the tan fabric of her dress, practically skipping as she ran down. Baffled, the Knight fell in step behind her, boots clanking as he followed her along.

Uliana dug her hands deeply into a box in the far corner, rifling through the junk as she did. The Knight slowed to a stop behind her, and craned his head to see.

“Emissary?” he said, more curiously. “What is it? Have you a plan to destroy the Rangers?”

“I do,” she said, and suddenly came up, turning in place. Her hand held a couple of bracelets, with intricate patterns along the top, barely visible in the dust. 

“You might want to prepare for a new roommate,” she said, with a smile. “We’re getting a Power Ranger of our own.”

\--

Kay had spent entirely too long cooped up in her room, letting her wounds heal. She was bored, and more than that, she was pretty mad about the defeat too. And so she sighed, got up, and went to find something to do.

Kay knew it would be a stupid idea to go punch something -- much as she wanted to, bottling up her anger and rage was never her strong suit. So she just opted to mess with the computer, because at least then she could distract her mind.

The problem was, Kay had not realized just how much she relied on having Jessie do the code. They squabbled over details and all but Kay really, really hated doing it without her. The touch screen was incredibly fiddly, and it was so much simpler to point at details and let Jessie code it into the computer directly.

_ Maybe I can get the code to work myself, _ she thought, and brought open the keyboard.  _ Can’t be that hard, right? I saw Jessie do it a few times. _

Kay remembered bits and pieces of code text, and where to add them. It was incredibly tedious to copy the bits Jessie wrote earlier and paste it into different locations, and the nagging sensation of  _ you’re going to screw it all up _ never really went away. But quickly, Kay got the hang of it and managed to plug in a few new street names and icons.

“Okay, cool,” she muttered to herself. “This stuff is easy.”

She turned to the monitor after closing the code window, and looked at the map -- and her stomach sank.

Something had gone horribly wrong. The text was all mangled and broken code, with alphanumeric strings she didn’t recognize exploding out of text boxes. There wasn’t even a street name in sight. It was in the wrong spot, too. And the street itself was glitched and the lines were jutting in the wrong direction.

“Oh,” Kay thought. “Er. Whoops. I, uh, I can fix this.”

She went back to the earlier blocks of text and opened them up, planning on tweaking them, but as she looked at it, Kay got the awful feeling that she didn’t remember which ones she made.

_ I’ll...I’ll fix it, _ she thought, and started tweaking the code, taking out some brackets and moving words around.

By the time she went back to the map screen, it was even more butchered -- an entire streetcorner had been replaced by a block of text that said “ERROR: INAPPLICABLE (483u7).”

Kay gave a frustrated yell and punched both fists into the desk at either side. It wasn’t working. She was going to have to get Jessie.

She trudged into the kitchen, peering in and glancing around. Blaire was there, holding a slightly damp slice of pizza.

“Hey, loser,” she said. “Where’s Jess?”

“Huh? You mean Jessie?” 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. She go home?”

Blaire shook his head. “She’s in her room, I think,” he gestured in the direction vaguely. “She went there when we got back. I didn’t see her leave.”

“Oh, good, I need her help,” Kay said, and turned trotting off towards the door. 

She didn’t even bother knocking as she loudly said, “Yo, nerd, come out! Code screwed up somehow, I think Blaire did something to it.”

Kay grabbed the handle and turned it, pushing the door open with her shoulder. “Hey, get out here, you-”

Jessie was on her bed, pillow tightly held in her arms, and her face was buried in it firmly. She gave a startled gasp as Kay barged in, and in that time Kay saw the red on her face and the wetness of her eyes -- she was crying. And very hard, too, judging by the depth and size of the stains on the pillow. 

Jessie gave a startled gasp and at once wiped the tears from her eyes. “I, uh, yes!” she said, her voice suddenly chipper and positive, as though nothing was wrong. She hurriedly gave Kay a fake and bright smile, as if her face wasn’t horribly red and her eyelashes weren’t clumped and damp. “Hey, Kay, what is it?”

Kay totally froze up, her mouth halfway open. “I, uhm,” she stammered, numbly. “Are...are you-”

“I’m fine!” Jessie lied. “Never better. What did you need?”

The Black Ranger stared at her teammate a moment, jaw still hanging open, visibly uncertain what to do. “The, the, er,” she managed, and pointed at the map. “The...code, I uhm,” she made a gesture, then looked at Jessie again. “Are...are you sure you’re-”

“I’m -- I’m fine!” Jessie said, more forcefully, and she smiled wider. “I’m great! I’ll come look at the code.”

Still absolutely unprepared, Kay only gave a silent nod as she turned and slid the door shut. 

A half hour later, Jessie’s door opened again, and she walked out. Her makeup had been touched up, and the moisture on her cheeks was gone. The only hint that she had been crying was the redness in her eyes and around her eyelids. She gave Kay a bright smile and said, “So, what’s up?”

Kay had been preparing for over twenty minutes what to say when she stepped out, and yet she was again totally flat footed by the surreal behavior. “I, uh, messed up the code trying to do it myself,” Kay said, and gestured to the computer. “I, uh, if you’re not feeling up to it, you-”

“Nope!” Jessie said, sharply, but with that same sweetness to her voice. “I told you, I’m great!”

Kay quietly watched her skip over to the computer, and said nothing as she started poking at the buttons. She stayed quiet, until the urge finally overtook her.

“You seem, er,” Kay struggled for a word.

“I said, I was fine!” Jessie repeated, and there was a crack in her voice as she said it.

“You’ve said that a lot,” Kay remarked, pointing at her. “Is...is this about the fight earlier? Because it’s-”

Jessie visibly flinched at that, and her whole body tensed at once. She looked down, her brown hair falling up, and her hand came to her face. “I...I don’t want to talk about it, okay,” she said, and her voice had lost some of the sternness and sweetness, and the word ‘okay’ came out with a shaky breath.

“I...I mean, I know it was an accident,” Kay said, and her voice had softened. “You didn’t, like, do it on purpose, or anything. I-”

Jessie’s eyes had started tearing up again, and she looked up at the ceiling in an effort to stop herself from crying again. “It’s not that,” she said, and gave a sniffle. “I just...Brock told me not to, but I thought it was so cool, and I just…” 

Her hands came to her face, and she gave a horrified exhale. “I’m... _ so  _ embarrassed,” she said. “I’m such a garbage Ranger. I’m so stupid. I-”

“Woah, hey,” Kay said, and waved her hands. “Relax, Jessie, my god. Brock showed up to a fight hung over, you can misfire a shot, it’s not a big deal.”

Jessie didn’t look any happier. Her face was still covered, and she gave a shaky exhale. She wasn’t still crying at least, not that Kay could tell. But Kay still felt completely out of place trying to comfort her; Kay’s instincts knew that teasing her or telling her to toughen up would just upset her further.

After a few minutes, Kay realized nobody was breaking the silence, and she opted to be honest. “I...don’t really know what to do about this.”

Jessie, despite herself, gave a timid laugh. “Neither do I,” she said. “But, thanks.”

“Huh?”

“For not being mad,” Jessie said, and she dug into her pockets to pull out a wadded up tissue. 

“Oh,” Kay gave a shrug. “I mean, I’m  _ mad _ , but not at you. What’s up with that Knight dude, right?” 

Jessie cracked a smile; Kay pounced on the opportunity, pulling her neck in a little and lowering the pitch of her voice until it resembled the Knight. “Power Rangers! We are to do battle on this glorious day! I have to go polish my armor! I’m a big weirdo square! Where is my steed, Shadowfax!”

It was dorky, not funny, and extremely weird -- therefore, Jessie laughed. Kay felt relief flood through her at the noise.

“Alright, so,” Jessie gave a sniff, and wiped her eyes clear. Some of her makeup was running; she didn’t seem to mind. “You said you messed up the code?”

\--

Nate sat on the floor alone, in a corner of an apartment far, far on the other side of town. It was impossibly crummier than the place he had with his brother, a smaller living room and an even worse mold problem. There was a slip of paper in his hand; a crest on the top was a stylized logo, with the letters “C-SEC” in bold embossed font. 

The letter was long and wordy, but the important part was at the bottom -- “NOT ACCEPTED” in a red rubber stamp pressed next to his signature. 

He gave a huff of anger and crumpled the piece of paper, then pitched it across the room, letting it bounce against the wall and hit the floor. He sagged in place; he exhaled, and felt a real well of desperation open beneath him, yawning and deep.

Nate didn’t know how long he sat there, but it was a while. The clock on the wall ticked on its low batteries, displaying the wrong time but clicking along all the same. All Nate really knew is that he was brought out of his reverie when a yawning portal of white exploded out from a space on the wall across from him.

“Holy,” he shouted, and jumped to his feet, suddenly not depressed anymore. A figure was walking out of it, towards him, and he took two quick strides across the room and snatched up a wooden pole he had fished out of a dumpster earlier that day. 

The figure grew closer -- it was female, and dressed in a tan gown, holding a scepter. The portal closed behind her; she was not someone he recognized, but he could assume who she was. 

“Hello, former R- _ ungh! _ ” she said, and was cut off as the butt of the pole was rammed into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

“I’m gonna make this simple,” Nate shouted, and twirled the pole, rearing it back. “ _ Get out of my house! _ ”

The woman’s hand shot up, and Nate was suddenly flying across the room, until his back crashed roughly against the wall. Magical energy like a giant fist gripped him by the chest, holding him firmly against the concrete, even as he struggled to break free.

She stood, a hand clutching at the spot at her sternum, giving a shaky inhale as she gathered her breath.

“And  _ I _ will make this simple,” she wheezed. “ _ Don’t do that again. _ ”

She made a gesture in the air, and Nate hit the ground, released from the spell that bound him up.

Uliana gave an inhale, and rose to full height, looking at him. “Now, then,” she said. “I’m sure you know who I am.”

Nate gave her a careful stare; he was coiled up, prepared to jump or maybe grab his makeshift quarterstaff again if need be, but he didn’t move yet. “Uliana, right?” he asked.

“Correct,” she said, pointing at him. “But you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know who you are.”

Nate didn’t answer, simply looking at her, waiting.

Uliana scoffed. “Okay, the quiet type, then,” she said, and shrugged. “Fine then. Have it your way. Then I’ll talk.”

She took a step over and plopped down on the couch against the wall, and gave a tiny cough as a cloud of dust appeared from the cushion. “I know you used to be a Power Ranger,” she said, and looked at him. “Didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Nate said, carefully. “Is that how you found me?”

“With no morpher?” she asked, and nodded. “Yes. I can’t track Rangers based on their morphers. But I  _ can _ search people who have felt the call of the morphin grid.”

“And what,” Nate asked. “You’re here to kill me?”

Uliana had a genuine recoil at that. “What? Kill you? God, no, of course not. Why would I do that? I have nothing to gain with a dead  _ former _ Power Ranger.”

Nate studied her body language and face. He didn’t think she was lying, but it was hard to know.

In the silence, Uliana prompted him again, “So, what happened, then?” 

Nate stared at her for a moment, then said, “The Red Ranger and I had a disagreement on who should be in charge.”

“Ah,” Uliana said. “I take it you challenged him for leadership?”

Again, Nate carefully said, “Maybe I did. What’s it to you?”

“Because I can offer you a way to get back at him,” she said, simply.

At that, Allen’s eyes flashed. And she saw it, so she added, “But first, you have to talk to me a little. What happened with the Power Rangers?”

Nate hesitated, weighing his options, and looking at this young woman who teleported into his room. Then, slowly, he said, “Their leader is a drunken moron. He’s unreliable and sloppy. I knew I would make a better leader, and I fought him for it. He cheated, and then my-” 

He caught himself before speaking any more. “And then he took my morpher and threw me out.”

Uliana nodded. “I see,” she said. “And I imagine you want to get back at him?”

“I’m thinking about it,” Nate said.

“Well, then we have a mutual goal,” she said, simply, and put her hands out. “I want the Power Rangers out of my way. You want the Red Ranger dethroned. We can work together.”

Nate’s face said everything, and she smiled as she saw his disbelief. “You don’t believe me?”

“Of course not,” he said, arms folded. “It isn’t often you get to be a Power Ranger, it’s less often that you get offered that  _ twice. _ ”

“I  _ need _ your help,” Uliana said. “This isn’t an offer. I’m asking for your assistance.”

“Me, specifically?”

“Of course. You’ve felt the touch of the morphin grid. A morpher will react to you. You’re one of the last ones left on the  _ planet. _ ”

Nate again got the feeling she was lying -- but he had no idea why, other than the vague, suspicious feeling this was all entirely too good to be true. Her face read nothing but entirely patient honesty. 

_ But it would, wouldn’t it? _ Nate thought.

“Why not you?” he asked, pointing at her. “You have magic. Make the morpher listen to you.”

She laughed. “Oh, gee, that’s a good idea,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I wish I had thought of that at all in the last decade. Would’ve saved me some time.”

The former Ranger paused a moment, then again studied her closely. Her cute cheekbones and large eyes felt like tricks to trick him, subtle ways of manipulating him to listen to her despite his best instincts.

_ But that kind of power again, _ he thought, remembering the rush of strength and speed in his muscles.

“So, what if I say yes,” he asked. “Do I become your mind controlled pet, then?”

“Mind control?” she repeated, again with a snort of amusement. “Gosh, your imagination. No, nothing like that. I need you clear of mind and thinking independently, especially since you’re already trained and capable.”

“You saw?”

Uliana nodded. “I’ve seen you fight, you know,” she said. “You’re very good. You can use morphers, and you have a reason to take down the Rangers. You’re perfect  _ exactly _ as you are.”

She saw the look in Nate’s eyes, one of delight at the compliment and the recognition of skill, and she leaned into it. “Plus, if you take the Red Ranger’s morpher, you can keep it. It will be yours. You can be in charge of the Rangers, if that’s what you want.”

Nate was quiet, looking away, thinking deeply about his options, rolling over his choices. Then, he looked up at her and said, “What about you? What do  _ you  _ want, anyway?”

“The Golden Empire restored,” she said, simply. 

“And when that’s done?”

“Well, that’s up to you, it’ll be your power when this is done,” Uliana said. “But I promise you, if you help me kill the Power Rangers, you can do whatever you want when it’s over. Join me, disappear into the night, I don’t care.”

“And I’ll work for you?” he asked, suspiciously. 

“It will be an equal partnership,” Uliana said. “I told you. No tricks, no lies. You and I, working together to a mutual goal, neither of us above the other. Does that sound fair?”

Nate was silent for some time after that, deep in thought. She waited, watching his face as he struggled, thinking quietly,  _ Come on, just take it.  _

Eventually, after an agonizing wait, he looked up at her and said, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Uliana’s face lit up in delight.

“On  _ one _ condition,” he said, with his finger up.

“Name it.”

“The...Green Ranger,” Nate said, carefully. “Is someone very important to me. I don’t want him hurt.”

“Done,” she replied.

“I’m serious,” he said, more forcefully this time. “Under  _ no _ circumstances are you to kill or wound him. None of your lackeys, none of your clayheads, nothing. Am I clear?”

“Absolutely,” she said, and put up a hand as if swearing on an invisible bible. “I will not allow him to come to mortal or grievous harm.”

Nate almost corrected her, insisting  _ no  _ harm whatsoever, but he would accept the important part of keeping him alive and not mauled, and gave a small nod. “Then...agreed. I’ll help you.”

“Perfect,” Uliana said, and gave a wide grin as she came to a standing position, and her wand went up.

Magic arced from the crescent shape, the rubies along the tip glowing as white light arced from it into a point in the middle of the room. The point grew wider and larger, and Nate shielded his face from the glare as it swelled into a portal, similar to the one Uliana came from before.

The light faded, and disappeared, and in the space dangled a pair of bracelets, about three fingers width and with intricate patterns along the side. Large white gems sat on the top and bottom, as big as a quarter and visibly rounded. It didn’t look tech-based like his old Jungle morpher -- this one was magical, and even as it floated down towards him, it glowed with a white power.

“Then take what is yours...Jagoranger,” Uliana said, a smile on her face.

Nate didn’t hesitate as he reached for the bracers, and slapped them on. A glow hit his wrists, and white energy trailed down into his veins. He again felt that same joyous, thrilling sensation course through his body. He already knew what he had to do the second it touched his skin.

One arm shot up, across his chest. “ _ Jagoranger! _ ” his other arm followed up, and the gems connected. “ _ Jungle power! _ ”

White light surrounded him, and enveloped his body, infusing the power of the grid into his muscles and skin. He snapped both arms down to his side -- the power burst forth, and shifted.

And when the light fell away, Nate had changed into a White Ranger. Tan and yellow adorned his sides and arms, and bright yellow armored boots came up to his knees. His chest was white, stretching from his chest down to the yellow diamond belt that clipped together the top half to the black pants of his lower half. Black shoulderpads extended down his arms, coming to thick armored black gloves. A katana was clutched in his hand, the handle carved with a stretched out jaguar’s body in the middle of a pounce.

Uliana waited patiently as Nate looked at his hands and body, at the blade he didn’t know he was holding, taking a moment to bask in the return of the power he craved. She broke the silence with a gentle, “How do you feel?”

“Strong,” he said, looking at himself, then he raised his head to meet her gaze. “Very strong.”

She walked closer to him, slowly, appraising him up and down. Nate noticed then that she was only a little bit shorter than him. “And no mind control, and no shackles,” she said, gesturing at him. “Just as I promised. You are your own man.”

“Mmm,” Nate said, and glanced down at the blade at his side. “And you’re not scared I might kill you?”

“If you kill me,” she retorted, with a knowing grin. “Then who will help you destroy the Red Ranger?”

Nate gave a snort, and nodded. 

“Now then, Jagoranger,” she said, and gestured with her scepter as it summoned more of the white lightning, and another portal appeared on the wall. “Let us go to the Imperial Castle. We have much to discuss.”


	6. Sibling Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate confronts Allen; the brothers disagree.

The day was overcast, which was a welcome relief compared to the ever-present baking sun that even made the inside of the high-tech Grid-infused Ranger helmets warm and a little stuffy. No rain yet, but the forecast was hard to read, and Allen didn’t check before he left the base. 

_ At least it’s nice not having the sun in my eyes, _ he thought. It was almost tempting enough to morph just to get the helmet. It had pretty incredible light protection.

Blaire, at his side, glanced at a tablet in his hand, then looked up. “I think the library’s here,” he said, pointing ahead. “We’re on 10th, right?”

Allen glanced to his side, then around. “9th,” he reported.

“Oh,” Blaire said, quietly. “...Oops. Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine, I don’t know where it is either,” Allen said. “Not like we’re in a rush. Chores are wrapped and it’s been quiet lately.” He stretched his arms above his head, giving a little groan as he did, and added, “Not a bad way to kill an afternoon if there’s no monsters around than reading up on Ranger history.”

Blaire’s nose was still buried in the tablet, and his eyes looked up only to check the roads. “Yeah,” he said, curiously, then looked at him. “How much do you know?”

“A bit, but,” Allen’s hand waved around. “I dunno. Stories. It’s all scattered. Stories of the original six. Some merch from the old world. A lot of books, stuff like that. I’d be surprised if any of it was real.”

Blaire looked surprised. “You think?”

“I mean, c’mon,” he said, with a laugh. “Unless you think a giant pig eating all the food in a high school is  _ actually _ what prompted the Rangers to move.” 

Blaire gave a snort of laughter. “Okay...I see what you mean,” he said, then looked at the tablet. “Here, we’re-”

Blaire was cut off -- Allen’s hand suddenly caught at his arm, and his head was turned. Blaire gazed where his eyes looked; a squat, rounder cop was coming towards them, making eye contact, hand raised. He had a bushy black moustache and a thick neck, and as he walked, they didn’t miss that his hand was resting on the gun at his hip.

Allen pressed his mouth into a line, and mumbled to Blaire, “Don’t mention Ranger stuff.”

“What?” Blaire asked, but Allen said nothing, as the cop was too close.

He gave them both a quick nod. “Hi there, kids,” he said, gruffly. “How’re you doing today?”

“Fine,” Allen said, curtly, and that was all.

Blaire pointed at the cop, suddenly, and made a noise in his throat. “Oh, wait,” he said, suddenly. “You’re Sergeant Stern, aren’t you?”

Stern’s eyebrow raised, glancing at the black teen. “I am,” he said, curiously. 

“I’ve seen you at C-Sec with my dad,” Blaire said. “I thought I recognized you.”

Stern peered at him a moment, then realization came over his face. “Ohh, you’re Thompson’s kid, aren’t you? The tech guy?”

“Yeah,” Blaire said, nodding. “That’s my dad.”

“Oh, huh, small world,” Stern said, then looked to Allen. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Allen,” was all Allen said. 

There was a beat, and Stern stared at him. “You got a last name, Allen?” he asked, and it wasn’t a request.

Allen paused. “Ortiz.”

“Huh,” Stern said, then looked at Blaire. “Well, what’re you two up today, anyway?”

“We’re heading to the library,” Blaire said. 

_ Don’t mention --  _ Allen thought, willing his thoughts into Blaire’s head for all the good it would do. 

“We’re going to look up some stuff about the Power Rangers.”

At that, Stern’s gaze shifted, a sudden and renewed interest in the two young men. He looked at Allen, and his gaze was clear in its intention. 

“Is...that so,” Stern said, still sizing Allen up. “I’m curious, Blaire, how long have you known Allen?”

Hastily, Allen cut in. “Only a little bit,” he said, and forced a smile to the cop -- easily one of his top three most hated things to do. “We met in a self-defense club.”

“Huh,” Stern replied, and Allen could tell Stern wasn’t buying their cover story.

“Yeah,” Blaire echoed. “We all met there a while ago.”

Stern looked at him. “‘You all’, hm?” he repeated. “How many are in this club?”

Something came over Blaire, because he hesitated at the question, thinking. “I, uh, well, the number goes up and down,” he managed to say. 

“I see,” Stern said, and looked between them curiously. Allen squelched the impulse in his stomach to tug his jacket down further over the morpher on his wrist.

However, salvation came as Stern took a small step back, nodding at them. “Well, then I guess I’ll let you two get to it, then,” he said, and put his hand up. “You two kids have a good day.”

“You too,” Allen said, his voice lined with the suggestion of,  _ go to hell. _

Stern left, and Allen and Blaire were entirely silent as they continued their walk. Allen looked around; he didn’t see anyone from C-Sec, and Stern wasn’t following them. 

“Wh-” Blaire started to say, but Allen put his hand up, silencing him for at least another block, until Allen could be entirely certain that they were far enough away.

At the end of the block, Allen exhaled, and looked at Blaire. He was annoyed. “What was  _ that _ about?” he asked, irritably. “You  _ know _ to keep the you-know-what quiet!”

Blaire looked horrified, and embarrassed even in his confusion. “I...what?” he asked, and flinched, looking down. “I -- s-sorry. I dunno what I did, but…”

Allen was too upset to soften; even as delicate as Blaire was, it was important. “You volunteered info!” he hissed, gesturing back to the place he last saw Stern. “Don’t  _ tell him _ we’re looking up stuff on Rangers. Now he thinks we’re suspicious!”

“Oh…” Blaire said, and swallowed hard. “S-sorry. I screwed up. I’m an idiot. I just…” he hesitated. “I’m...not good at lying.”

Allen’s anger dissipated. “It’s...fine, I guess,” he muttered, and gave a shrug. “Just...I don’t like cops. Especially not ones who don’t like Rangers.”

“Why don’t you like cops?” Blaire asked. “All the ones I’ve met are alright.”

“Because cops don’t like me,” Allen said. “You get kicked around the orphanages a few times, you tend to get used to cops treating everyone like a perp.”

“Oh,” Blaire said, again, and he slumped a little in place. “I dunno. I never had a problem with the police.”

Allen went to say,  _ yeah, your dad makes guns for them, _ but bit his lip. “Well, so long as we’re you-know-what,” he said, more softly. “Let’s be a little suspicious of them.”

“Sure,” Blaire said, but his voice was hesitant. Allen could hear it.

“...what?”

“I mean…” Blaire muttered, and awkwardly looked away. “Forget it, it’s stupid.”

Allen gave him an annoyed stare, and came to a stop, gesturing at him. “Spit it out, dude.”

The Blue Ranger paused, visibly uncomfortable, and said, “...we didn’t do anything wrong, right?” he asked. “So...can’t we work with the police? We all want the same thing, don’t we?”

Allen gave his friend a surprised stare, and hesitated, thinking for a moment. There were a lot of things he could say, but Blaire was sensitive, and he wanted to be careful. 

“Just because we  _ should _ have common goals doesn’t mean we _ actually _ do,” he said, then met Blaire’s eyes. “The fact that they tried to arrest Brock should show you whatever the cops are doing, especially that Blake guy, they might have their own reasons.”

“That…” Blaire muttered, and sighed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Allen agreed. “But it’s what we got.”

Blaire looked uncomfortable and conflicted. Allen let him; “Come on,” he said. “Library’s right there.”

-

The library was indeed at the location, but it was a part of a larger building complex, shared with multiple other businesses. It was a fairly unremarkable building, painted white and stretching tall into the sky, and it housed a restaurant on the first floor, with outdoor dining. The duo had to go up a staircase in the side of the restaurant to get to the library, and when there, the person at the door assumed they were looking for the shop on the next floor up. 

The library itself was very quiet, with only three people sitting at desks and pouring over books or computers. Blaire could hear more noise coming from the kitchen downstairs than from the mostly-empty room, and he got the impression it was like this on a regular basis.

Allen and Blaire introduced themselves to the librarian in charge -- a surprisingly young brown skinned woman, looking only in her 20s at most, with carefully cut dark black hair and shiny bronze earrings. She processed them into the library system, gave them ID cards, then offered to show them around.

“We actually wanted to see anything you had on Power Rangers,” Blaire said. “Anything about the most recent ones, especially.”

“Oh,” the woman said, thinking. “Huh...it’s been a while, let me see…”

She looked it up on her computer, and frowned in frustration, before typing again. That seemed to get results, as she stood and gestured for them to follow. She led them to a corner in the back of the room, moving aside a stepladder that was collecting dust. It was the spot they were looking for; thankfully, the shelf was empty of kids books, and instead was large tomes covered in cobwebs and disuse dedicated to Ranger sightings, photos, and histories.

“There’s also this,” the librarian said, gesturing to the computer. “That application there brings up news stories from the last few decades. We kept as much intact as we could, though it isn’t much.”

“It’s perfect,” Allen said, hand cradling an open book of  _ Power Rangers: Who Could They Be?  _ “Thanks, this is great.”

The two boys set to work pouring over the available books; Blaire was a quick reader, and soon he had powered through several tomes about the history of the Rangers, and the places they operated, and the weapons they had.

Allen was fascinated by it all. Allen was a Rangers fan, of course, but it was all relegated to children’s books and merchandise he had since his youth. He hadn’t really had the time or energy to look up more about them as he was shuffled around the child services in Beacon City. Now that he had access to all of the old records, it was fascinating to watch. 

It was especially funny now that he was a Ranger himself -- he poured over the book, watching all the theories about who the Power Rangers were and how their abilities worked, most of it wrong.

_ They know about morphers and the grid, _ he said, fingers running down the page.  _ But they think Rangers all have one moon base we operate on. Pfftt, as if. _

“Woah,” Blaire said, suddenly.

Allen sat up, catching on the page he was at. “What’s up?”

“I think I found it,” Blaire said.

Surprised, Allen was on his feet in a second, and slid next to Blaire’s book, peering over his shoulder.

In a photo at the top, was five Rangers, standing in a line together, posing for the photo. They had designs Allen had never seen before, not even in the book he was reading; Yellow, Green, White, and Red, all with symbols on their chests into the negative space of the suits, clutching weapons. The White Ranger was a woman, and she knelt in the group shot, a sheathed sword in her hand lying flat on the ground. The fifth ranger stood next to them, taking up space in the photo with his boxy shoulderpads and a crest on his chest, clutching a long greatsword.

“‘Cardmaster Rangers’,” Allen read. “Is this the ones? The last Rangers?”

“I think so,” Blaire said. “The entry talks about them in the present tense, and…” he flipped the book to the last page, right before the blank sheet before the cover. “Published ten years ago. This is them. These are the last Rangers.”

“Huh, I wonder…” Allen paused, then took a few steps over to a nearby computer, which he woke from sleep and started to type into.

“What’re you looking for?” 

“Newspaper archives,” Allen said. “Going to plug ‘Cardmaster’ into a search.”

“You think you’ll find it?”

He gave the Blue Ranger a grin. “I’d say if the Power Rangers all died one day, that’d be a pretty big headline, wouldn’t it?”

Blaire kept reading as Allen looked; a good half hour later, he let out a small, “Woah,” and Blaire sat up to walk next to him.

It was a newspaper article, with the publish date of ‘August 10th, 2010’ -- headline read as, “POWER RANGERS PERISH IN SUNDERING.”

“‘Sundering’?” Blaire asked, and glanced at Allen.

“I have  _ no idea _ what it means,” he said, eyes flicking down the article. He mumbled as he read, then said, “Apparently...the writer is some kind of friend of the Rangers? And he says…” he paused, reading quickly. “Dozens of Rangers all gathered to stop the Golden Empire...and…” another pause. “There was some kind of explosion.”

“An explosion…” Blaire repeated. “The Sundering?”

“Yeah,” Allen replied. “Apparently they saw it was some kind of Grid burst, and…” he paused, eyes quickly reading. “Scientists called it the Sundering of the Grid, because…” he blinked. “Wow, this is a lot.”

Blaire leaned over his shoulder. “Oh! They were using the gridsensors over at MIT,” he said. “Landed a 8.4 on the chart, which...wow. I don’t...think I’ve ever even  _ heard _ of a 5.”

Allen glanced at him, a smile on his face, and he scooted out of the chair. “I think you’re better suited here than I am,” he said, and gestured to it. “Please, do more reading and tell me anything you find.”

“Sure,” Blaire said, excitedly. “I love this stuff. Built my own gridsensor a few years back. I can show you sometime.”

Allen’s stomach growled, and he gave Blaire a shrug. “Sure, maybe,” he said. “I’m gonna go downstairs and get a burger. You want one?”

“Sure, but,” Blaire glanced at the librarian, then at him. “I don’t think she would like food in here.”

“I’ll sneak it in,” Allen said. “Don’t worry. Diet coke, right?”

“Er-” Blaire said, about to protest, but Allen was already gone.

\--

Allen was distracted as he skipped down the stairs and walked into the restaurant, standing in line to order him and his friend a meal. His brain was full of all kinds of questions, rolling over the sight of the Cardmaster Rangers, and the question of what the Sundering was. So much so that, as he stood next to a young father and a toddler in his arms, and thought about biting into a wad of french fries, he almost didn’t notice the sight of his brother standing just outside the entrance, looking at him.

He saw him, and for a second looked away, then did a double take as he looked back up. It was Nate. Nate was outside the window, making eye contact. 

_ Holy,  _ Allen thought, staring, mouth agape.

Nate gestured for him to come outside, then pointed just to the right.

_ What in the, _ Allen thought. But beneath the confusion was a shock and euphoric delight at seeing his brother again. He stepped out of line, bumping into a young woman as he did, who called him ‘rude’ as he ignored her and chased after Nate.

Allen stepped into the afternoon air, which was tinted with the sensation of rain oncoming and slightly dark with the overcast clouds. He ducked around the corner, practically running as he came into sight of his older brother. Nate was standing in the alley, smiling at Allen, the same old dusty leather jacket tugged tight over a white tee.

“Nate?” Allen asked, in disbelief, as he stepped closer. His smile was impossible to hide, relieved at last to see his only family.

“That’s me,” Nate replied, a grin. “Did you miss me?”

Allen let out a noise of delight and charged forwards, giving two quick steps forward and throwing his arms to hug Nate tightly. Nate returned the hug; Allen felt a rush of relief at the feeling, and Nate’s hug was tight. For the moment, the two brothers shared a loving embrace, and there were no problems in the world besides that.

Allen broke away, and his mouth was open, so many questions rattling around in his head. “I looked-” he said, pointing behind himself with his thumb. “Your...I thought... _ god  _ it’s good to see you! I was so worried!”

“I’m  _ fine, _ ” Nate said, with a laugh, and gently whacked Allen in the side of the head. “Honestly, you dork, you worry too much. I’m tough, I can take care of myself.”

“Still,” Allen replied, and shook his head. “God, I’m so glad to see you again. I missed you, man.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Nate said, and smiled. “And...there’s something else.”

Nate cast a quick glance around; they were alone in the alley, but it was still close to the street, and he took a few steps away, making sure nobody was peeking casually. Curious, Allen followed, until Nate seemed satisfied, and shoved the sleeve of his jacket all the way up to his elbow.

Allen gazed on his extended fists -- a pair of bracelets, three fingers long and intricately designed, with little jewels in the top to accent, were on Nate’s wrists. 

Confused, he glanced at him and said, “So, what, did you go shopping or something?”

“Wiseass,” Nate said. “It’s a _ morpher _ .”

“It’s a -- you have  _ powers _ ?” Allen asked, and his smile went wider. “That’s  _ incredible!  _ I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “I’m a Ranger again.”

“What a relief,” Allen said, and tugged on his arm as he stepped away. “Come on, I can’t wait to tell the others you’re back.”

Nate didn’t move, and Allen’s hand slipped off his jacket as he held in place. Nate’s mood soured at once, and he gave his brother a shocked expression. 

“The others?” he repeated.

Allen nodded, and gestured out the alley. “Yeah,” he said. “The others. The other Rangers.”

Nate shook his head. “Allen, I’m not going back.”

Allen gave him a blank stare, then glanced at his morpher, then at him again. “What?” he asked, peering at him curiously. “Sure you are. That’s...why you’re here, that’s why you have powers again. To be a Ranger, right?”

“I am a Ranger,” Nate said. “But on my terms only. I’m not working for that  _ moron. _ ”

“Nate it isn’t working  _ for _ anyone wh--” he started to say, but bit it back. “Then...why are you here? What’s with all this,” he gestured around himself.

“I came here to get  _ you _ ,” Nate said, gesturing to Allen. “You’re a dummy but you’re still my little brother.”

“Get me?” Allen repeated. “Get me for what, if you’re-”

Slowly, the realization came over him. Allen looked at Nate’s wrists, where his new morpher was, then at Nate, and the cogs turned. The words ‘ _ a ranger on my own terms _ ’ echoed in his head, and Allen started to realize the things Nate  _ wasn’t  _ saying.

He pointed at Nate’s wrist, and said, in a much more serious voice, “Nate...where did you get that?”

A flicker of shame went across his face, barely repressed. “Listen, Allen,” he said, carefully. “I cut a deal. If I-”

“With who?” Allen said, sharply, cutting him off.

Nate didn’t speak for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, “Uliana.”

Allen’s mouth fell open, and he silently stared at him in horror, jaw open. Eventually he managed to blurt out, at a volume much higher than he meant to, “Are you  _ out of your goddamn mind?! _ ” 

Nate’s eyes flashed in frustration, and he took a step closer, hand coming up to Allen’s chest, patting the air. “ _ Lower your voice _ ,” he hissed. “God, you want the whole city to know?”

Allen batted his hand aside. “Are you  _ nuts?! _ ” he said, but it was more of a hiss than a yelp. “You seriously just  _ allied with the enemy _ to get a morpher?”

“I didn’t  _ just _ do it to get this,” Nate barked back. “I  _ negotiated. _ You and I are safe, she’s promised, so long as I work for her. I came to get you so-”

“Nate,  _ Uliana is evil! _ ” Allen shot back, and his hand swung wide. “She probably lied to you to get you to do what she wanted!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Nate said, and pointed at him. “I need _ your _ help to make sure she doesn’t double cross me!”

“That’s not reassuring, man,” Allen said, and shook his head. “What were you  _ thinking!?” _

Moisture was beginning to fall from the sky, hitting the rooftops and sliding off until it made twin cascades that fell on either side of the two brothers. It went ignored, even as the rain dampened their hair and started to soak in their clothes. The argument continued. 

“This is for  _ us, _ ” Nate said, and tapped himself in the chest. “If you and I work with the winning side, we’re safe, we have powers, things can be  _ good _ this way. I mean,” he swung his hand wide. “Or would you rather put your life in the hands of some drunken  _ fool! _ ”

“Brock is  _ trying, _ ” Allen said. “He’s not perfect but none of us are! And just out of your own selfishness you…” his fist balled up in a rage. “ _ You decided to buddy up to the woman who killed mom and dad! _ Did you just  _ forget _ about-”

Nate took a hasty step forward, pointing an accusing finger right at Allen, inches from his face.

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ accuse me of that,” Nate shot back. “Don’t you  _ dare.  _ Of  _ course _ I haven’t forgotten about them! But they’re  _ gone, _ ” he gestured out, then back at Allen. “And we’re  _ here.  _ And we need to protect each other. And that’s what I’m doing, for  _ us. _ ”

Allen shook his head, looking away with a huff of anger. “And for us,” he repeated. “You spit on mom’s grave. Good job, man. You did it.”

“Oh come on,” Nate sighed, tossing his hands in the air. “Since the beginning, this is what I’ve tried to do. Keep us safe. Make sure  _ we,  _ as brothers, are protected. And now you’re treating me like this.”

“You went too far,” Allen said, looking right at him. “Working with Uliana. God, Nate, I knew you were arrogant, but this is  _ insane. _ ”

“Just... _ come with me, _ ” Nate said. “I don’t even  _ care _ if you like it. Just stop with all this…” he gestured to him. “Weird hero thing.”

Allen’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “That  _ weird hero thing _ is called ‘being a Ranger,’” he said, angrily. “And I am one. I’m here to protect people, just like I always wanted. Just like Rangers  _ should _ be.”

“Well that’s great for you,” Nate snapped, and jabbed a finger at him. “You get to be on the high road! Meanwhile,” he pushed a hand into his own chest. “ _ I’m _ the one who has to do all the hard work of making sure we’re fed and clothed and have a house.”

“I didn’t _ ask _ you to protect me,” Allen said, and his arms folded. “I’m eighteen. I don’t need a dad.”

Nate laughed at that, right in his face. “You’re following orders of some drunk and you think you’re capable of making  _ good  _ decisions?” he snorted. “That’s a joke, Allen. You can’t take care of yourself.”

Allen’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “Maybe you never let me,” he spit back. “Maybe I’m better off as a Power Ranger.”

Nate’s face flicked hurt, then anger. “You wouldn’t know anything about what’s best for you,” he said. “You never have.”

“Maybe I don’t,” Allen said, firmly. “But I know what’s right and what’s wrong. And I am  _ not _ going to chum it up with the witch that makes monsters that kill people.” He paused for emphasis, and made sure to look right in Nate’s eyes. “Like our parents.”

Nate met his stare. “And I’m not going to work for a drunk who calls himself a leader,” he replied. 

Silence. The two young men stared at each other, only the sound of the slowly-escalating rain to fill the moment between them as they waited for the other to speak. Neither did. They both quietly hoped their brother would give in, and surrender, and accept the terms of the other, but the quiet moment only stretched longer as they waited. Allen could feel his hair getting so wet it was getting into his eyes, and he saw Nate’s white shirt slowly turn grey as it absorbed the rain.

“So,” Nate said, and his voice was soft, almost regretful, but still tinged with anger. “That’s it then.”

“Yeah,” Allen replied, sadly. “I guess it is.”

More silence, with only the sound of the hammering rain filling the space. The brothers locked eyes, and both could feel what came next, their bodies tensing in preparation. Allen’s right foot inched back a bit, and he put a little more weight on the ball of his foot. Nate’s hands had curled into fists, and his breathing slowed.

But neither moved; neither wanted to.

Eventually, Allen broke the silence, his voice full of sorrow and regret. “Come on, man,” he said, quietly. “Don’t make me do this.”

Nate didn’t respond for a second, and his voice was tense. “You don’t have to do anything,” he said, and his voice was as quiet as Allen’s.

“Yeah, I do,” Allen said, quietly. Then, a second later, he added. “Sorry.”

Both men moved at the same time, bursting into a sprint at one another, Allen planting his left foot in the ground, right leg coming up for a roundhouse, Nate’s right fist rearing back for a punch. They met in the middle, and both shots bounced off of hastily-raised blocks. 

Nate and Allen had sparred many times over the years, to keep their skills seasoned, and to keep fit. And as such, the brawl they found themselves in -- a real, genuine fight, with anger and frustration spilling over with each punch and kick -- was tight and fast. Punches were pushed aside, kicks were dodged, both young men testing each other, staying conservative and sensing the fight.

A snap kick to Nate’s side caught him off guard, and he grunted with the impact, stumbling away until he hit the wall. Allen rushed at him, and -- knowing his brother -- Nate ducked low as the second kick came for his head. Nate rose to full height, and swung for his brother, and Allen juked to the side of his punch, but had to step back as the follow up whipped right by his nose. 

He took a step back, and Nate pushed himself off the wall to run at his younger brother. One, two, three punches lanced out for Allen, head, stomach, head, in that order, but Allen knew the strike routine, and blocked them all perfectly.

However, Nate was now close. He slipped through Allen’s block to land a powerful uppercut, right at his chest, strong enough to send the younger brother staggering. Allen grunted, stepping back, but didn’t fall, hands shooting up at once as Nate’s other fist swung for his head. Allen blocked it, then stepped in to get closer to counter hit him.

Nate, a little taller, moved away, recognizing the danger in his younger brother’s close range. Allen took the moment to catch his breath, then stepped forward again, planting his right foot to side-kick with his left. Nate saw it coming, and stepped in, right past the kick, landing a straight punch into Allen’s stomach.

The Green Ranger let out a cry of pain as the punch connected; then, a second later, Nate’s other fist connected with his eye. That was too much for him, and he crumpled to the ground, one hand pressed to his face.

Nate paused, and took a step back, restraining himself, as he saw his brother on his knee. Both brothers took a moment to catch their breathing, and he heard Allen’s come in great wheezes. He had knocked the wind out of him.

“You can’t beat me,” Nate said, through his inhales. “You know that. I helped train you. I know how you fight.”

Allen’s eye already was shot through with redness and a bruise was forming, but he forced himself to his feet, chest heaving with exertion. His fists came up again. 

“You don’t know everything about me,” Allen said, his teeth gritted.

Nate went to respond; Allen jumped forward, right hand swinging for Nate’s face, letting out a mighty  _ kiai _ as he did. Nate saw the anger in his eyes, and knew his next move. He brought his hand up to block the punch, and his other hand caught Allen’s by the arm, gripping it tightly enough to lock him in place.

“I know you lead with your right,” Nate said.

Allen yanked away; Nate didn’t let him escape. And so Allen let out a yell of anger and threw himself forward, head smashing right into Nate’s face. Only luck kept it from shattering his nose, and Nate let out a yelp and stumbled back, releasing Allen.

He jumped forward and fired a snap kick in the air. Nate spun away, and Allen’s foot bashed into the dumpster, denting the cheap metal of the thing, just as Nate skidded to a halt, fists up.

Allen’s arm shot down, and came to his chest, and he reached up for the tiny lever on the morpher. Nate moved in tandem, and brought his right fist up to his own chest.

_ “Green viper!” _

_ “Jagoranger!” _

Nate’s arms crossed, and he snapped both down. Allen shot his fist into the air.

_ “Jungle power!”  _ both men shouted in unison. 

White and green energy enveloped them in turn. When the light faded, the Jagoranger was where Nate stood, and he sprung into the air, giving a mighty kick at where he knew the Green Ranger was. Allen blocked it, and the impact made his bones rattle and his feet skid on the wet pavement.

Nate’s attacks were a flurry of motion, and Allen was kept on the defensive, blocking as fast as his suit would allow. Rain splashed off the two men’s suits with each movement, and even through his advanced reflexes, Allen’s vision was getting blurry with all the moisture in the air. 

Nate kicked for him; Allen stepped to the side, then suddenly made a roundhouse kick right at Nate’s side -- it connected, hard, and Nate let out a grunt as he was sent into a nearby ladder, the metal crumpling underneath the impact. 

“You still want to do this?” Allen asked, gathering his breath. “I hit back.”

Nate pulled himself out of the hunk of metal, and staggered forward, fang-lined helmet tilting up towards his brother. “Absolutely,” he said.

Green clashed against white - punches and kicks that slammed into blocks shot through the air, spraying water at all angles, until Nate slipped right under a wild swing Allen threw out and brought his knee right into Allen’s gut. The impact lifted him off the ground for a second, just long enough for a kick that sent Allen skidding along the ground. 

His helmet flashed alerts about the damage -- Allen ignored them, and forced himself to stand, hands coming up to rest on the dumpster, just to his right. Nate was already coming at him, sprinting at full speed. 

An idea came to the Green Ranger, and the idea became action -- he grabbed the dumpster with both hands and pushed it with all his might. The rusty wheels screamed in protest, but it moved, catching Nate by surprise. The hunk of metal smashed into him, pancaking the White Ranger against the opposing wall by the waist.

Allen didn’t bother with a clever comment -- he was already running at Nate, preparing to punch the dumpster even harder into the wall, hopefully to trap his brother. Before he could, Nate slammed both hands into it and threw it aside, and fell to the ground, on one knee.

_ Fine, _ Allen thought, and deftly hopped over the thing as it whipped by him.

But Nate saw him coming, and suddenly sprung into the air, meeting him as he jumped, and landed a powerful uppercut right into Allen’s head. The cushioned impact from the Ranger powers only did so much, and he tumbled through the air, barely managing to get onto his hands and knees in enough time to see Nate’s knee heading right for him.

It hit his chest, and Allen was sent flying, tumbling through the air, connecting hard with the ground before skidding along. He was dazed, and disoriented, and managed to look up to see Nate marching towards him, blue scarf dangling behind him.

Allen’s hands shot into the air, gripping nothing, and he cried out,  _ “Viperfangs!” _

The handles of his blades appeared, and he crossed them over his chest, bracing himself for his brother’s attack.  _ I can’t charge energy yet, _ he thought, gathering his bearings.  _ But it’s worth a try. _

Nate started to run, and his hand went up.  _ “Jago Saber!” _ he barked, and white light gathered in his hand, forming into a sheathed katana. 

_ Crap, _ Allen thought, and brought the daggers up. 

The blade cleared the scabbard with a shriek of metal, and Allen brought the blades up to block the attack he knew was coming, hopefully get inside and slash at him. 

But then the katana glowed white, and Nate blinked out of existence, as though he wasn’t there, and then an explosion of pain ripped up Allen’s back. Sparks went everywhere as the suit’s power rushed to protect him, and he rolled away, coming up again with his Viperfangs before him.

_ What in the hell, _ Allen thought, looking at his brother.

The Jagoranger before him held the blade out at Allen, pointed at him, standing tall. “You couldn’t beat me before,” he said. “And now with the Jaguar powers, I’m twice what I was before. You can’t win. Give it up.”

“I’m a Power Ranger,” Allen said, slowly coming to a standing position. “I don’t give up.”

Nate gave a sigh, and brought the blade into a defensive guard. “Have it your way, then,” he said.

Nate moved towards him, and the blade went up. Allen saw the action, and dove away, just as Nate again blinked out of existence and appeared somewhere else, behind the Green Ranger. The Jago Saber cut through the air, but Allen was out of the way.

Allen sprung forward, and gripped his daggers. He focused, bringing the same sensation as when the suit enveloped him, and put it into his hands, and swung for Nate as he did. The daggers -- unchanged, without the glow of an energized attack -- smacked into Nate.

Nate grunted; but it wasn’t the damage Allen was hoping for. The energy didn’t charge, again.

_ Damn it,  _ he thought. Still nothing on his Viperfangs.

Nate slashed at him; Allen parried it, and ducked low as it cut over his head, and just as he stood to cut at his brother once more, Nate again blinked out of existence. Allen’s swing was already out, and so he could only flinch in preparation for the blade coming at him once more.

It connected to his back; Allen yelped in pain and hit the ground again. His suit pinged him with warnings, and he tried to ignore the agony in his back as he crawled onto his hands, daggers still clutched in them. He looked up; Nate was standing near him, blade out, as if waiting for something.

“I was preparing for a fight against Brock,” Nate said, looking at his brother. “I practiced for two weeks straight in preparation. To cut him down to size…” he rolled the sword over in his hand, looking at Allen. “Are you going to keep going with this foolishness?”

Allen glared back. “Go to hell,” he barked. 

Nate huffed, and brought the sword to bear again. “Fine,” he said. “Then we’ll keep this up-”

He was cut off as two streaks of blue light suddenly pinged him in the head, smashing into his helmet and sending him toppling to the ground. Allen spun, and saw Blaire, morphed and with his Eaglebow in hand, pointed right at Nate. Even through the rain, Blaire’s body was crisp and snappy motions, as he raised the bow again to prepare to fire once more.

Nate was on his feet, and Blaire snapped off two quick shots at him -- the Jago Saber was up, and slapped one out of the air, and Nate stepped away from the next shot as it zipped past his shoulder. Allen saw his helmet look at Allen, then at Blaire, and he took a step away. 

Allen could feel Nate’s eyes on him, and he stared back. The message was clear;  _ this isn’t over. _

Nate blinked out of existence; the rain crashed down around in the space where he once was. 

Allen felt a sink of mixed emotions as his brother vanished, none more powerful than the sudden deep sadness in his chest. 

\-- 

Blaire, as usual, was all silent once he was the Blue Ranger, and as such had no words to offer Allen once he was on his feet. His gut and head still ached, so Blaire curled an arm under his and helped him limp along. Allen’s leg still hurt from when he accidentally kicked the dumpster.

_ And I wasn’t morphed, _ he grumbled.  _ This thing is gonna ache for weeks. _

To his surprise, the three other Rangers met them only two blocks away, each of them morphed and ready. Weapons were already out, and Brock led the trio as they came upon the two Rangers.

“What happened?” Brock asked, eyes scanning.

Allen gave a great inhale. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the fight. “A new Ranger,” he said, heavily. “Attacked me.”

He couldn’t see his face through the helmet, but the Red Ranger’s body deflated and he let out a heavy sigh. “Crap,” he swore, shaking his head. “That’s just great. As if things weren’t bad enough.”

“Who was it?” Kay asked. 

Allen suddenly found himself without words as the question was presented to him. He opened his mouth to speak, heart hammering, and -- for some reason -- his nerve failed him.

“I...I don’t know,” he lied. “I didn’t recognize him.”

Kay tilted her head. “Nothing?” she asked. “Not even like, their voice or something?”

Allen’s eyes looked away. “I, uh, no,” he said, and his stomach twisted. “I didn’t recognize anything.” 

Brock groaned. “Great,” he muttered, then glanced at him. “Well. At least you’re okay. Yellow, can you look him over when we get back?”

“Sure thing,” Jessie replied, and her gun vanished in her hands as she wished it away.

They headed back to the base. Allen was glad nobody could see his face; it was lined with pain and guilt, and he spent the entire trip back kicking himself for what he said. 

\--

There was a knock at the door. Stephan looked around; the maid was out, and he knew Blaire was out too. 

_ Guess I’ll get it, then, _ he thought, and stood from his desk, leaving the half-finished schematic of X-Rifles where it lay. He dusted his hands off as he made his way through his house, mulling over the question of,  _ I wonder who it could be? I’m not expecting a package. _

He opened the door, and saw a husky, squat man dressed in blue with police markings on his uniform. He had a bushy moustache, and his badge said, “STERN.” 

“Hi,” Stern said, nodding to him. “You’re Stephan Thompson, right?”

“I am,” Stephan replied, curiously. “What’s this about?”

A notepad was in Stern’s hand, and he pointed a pen at Stephan. “You got a son named Blaire, by chance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay!! Hopefully updates should be more consistent going forward. I'm already working on the next chapter.


	7. White With Evil

Nate slipped into an alleyway, rain still bouncing against the shell of his helmet and the energy of the suit. He could see the water bounce off his arms and legs, and roll over the white and tan of the supernatural fabric, not even absorbing a single drop. 

He looked around, scanning around him for any sight of prying eyes. There was nobody. He was alone. The time-warping powers of the Saber were strong and allowed him to vanish from the spot, giving him precious seconds to jump to a rooftop and duck away, but he knew not to be spotted yet. Uliana was very clear on that.

“I’m ready, Emissary,” he said, aloud.

There was silence, with only the sound of the rain to fill the space, before he felt the air ripple behind him, and light beamed over his shoulders, illuminating the darkened alleyway. Nate turned; a rippling white gateway had erupted from a spot in the wall. One of Uliana’s portals, just big enough for him.

He quickly stepped into it. The sensation of passing through the portal caused a twist in his stomach, as though he was in an elevator that suddenly dropped, as the folded space pulled him from the innards of Beacon City and directly back into the Imperial Castle, in the throne room. 

It was as lifeless as he remembered when he left; the cold grey of the stone and the dingy, artificial light of the magical spheres the Empress hung in the air to give visibility. Even the light of the sun beaming in through windows and doorways felt like it was teasing the castle’s absolute hollowness. 

Nate hit the ground and staggered a moment as he regained his equilibrium -- portal jumping was never clean. Uliana’s hands still sparkled with her magic as she lowered them; the Emissary was the only one in the room with Nate, as he didn’t see the Knight or clayheads. 

Nate saw her face; she was repressing a smile of amusement as she lowered her hands, the sleeves of her gown rumping. The shame of his failure burned as he looked away from her.

“So,” she said, and didn’t bother hiding her mirth. “How did it go, then?”

Nate willed away the helmet; it melted with a gentle shimmer of white light, and Nate saw her face clearly as she smirked at him. His voice came in a snap as he barked, “Shut _up.”_

For a second Uliana looked furious, indignant at the way he spoke to her, but she said nothing. As though it had never been, the anger left, and she gestured at him with her free hand. “So,” she said. “What now?”

“I’m going to keep trying,” Nate said, angrily, and ran a gloved hand through his hair. His eyes clenched shut and he gave a heavy sigh of anger. “He’s...being so _stubborn,_ I know I can talk some sense into him.”

“And if he refuses?”

“Then…” Nate huffed. “Then...I’ll just knock him cold and drag him here. He’ll come around eventually. I’m not going to just...let him run off without me. He’s…” he exhaled, and the sense of loss welled up stronger than his anger, and his face fell in genuine sadness. “He’s still my only family.”

Uliana said nothing a moment, her fingers idly clicking on her staff as she looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. Nate felt like she was going to say something snide or cold, but instead she nodded at him, and said, “Very well. I’ll help you any way I can.”

He gave her a surprised look. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said. 

Nate studied her face a moment. It was so hard to tell, but he didn’t think she was lying. 

“Well...thank you,” he replied, gesturing to her. “I, uh, appreciate it.”

Uliana nodded at him, silently accepting his thanks. Nate again couldn’t read her face or her body language, and had no idea why the sudden sympathy, if that’s even what it was. He was both worried and curious about it. 

“Allen is weak,” Nate said, changing the subject. “We should attack again.”

“No,” Uliana said, firmly. “The Jaguar powers are weak after your battle. They haven’t been used in a decade.”

Nate’s anger returned, and his fists clenched around the scabbard of the Jago Saber in his hand. “I feel fine,” he said, and clenched his hand before her. “I’m _strong._ And with a monster and some clayheads-”

“You will _not_ attack the Rangers,” she ordered, and pointed at him with her free hand. “You are wounded, and we are unprepared. I told you today was about you connecting with your brother, and that’s all we will be doing.”

Nate’s jaw clenched, and his shoulders tightened as his anger boiled over. “Are you giving me orders?” he growled.

“No, I’m telling you _what is strategically sound,_ ” she replied, and pointed at the ground. “If you move, you move on your own. You need to think of the long term goals, Jagoranger, before you run off again.”

Nate glared at her, and for a second considered charging his blade with the grid and striking out at her -- but the words _long term goals_ pinged around inside his skull. He wanted Allen back. To do that, he’d need to best him in combat. And he could do that, but not when he was with the others, and definitely not without Uliana’s support.

 _And knowing him,_ he thought. _He will be in the base right now, hiding out, waiting for his wounds to heal._

It made sense. But Nate didn’t like taking orders, especially not from this enigmatic villain he signed up with. So he gave her a petulant glare and said, “And what _is_ the long term goal, then?”

“To rebuild the Golden Empire, and defeat the Rangers,” Uliana said, simply. “That is the goal. That is the plan.”

Allen nodded for a second, rolling over, _rebuild the Golden Empire._ “And when do we strike?”

“Soon,” she replied, and turned in place. She walked away from him, and her heels clacked loudly on the stone. “For now, I have other things to attend to.”

Nate saw her gesture for what it was -- a dismissal. “What things?” he demanded.

“Those are not your concern,” Uliana said, without stopping, nor without turning to him. 

His lips pressed into a hard line. “They absolutely are my concern,” he said, a little louder. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

Uliana stopped in place, at last. She slowly turned, looking at him with the gaze of a fed up parent dealing with an especially petulant child. Uliana took a few steps closer to him, and pointed at him with her staff. The intent was as clear as if she had pointed a gun at him, which the weapon technically _was._

“You wished for a partnership,” she said. “This is a partnership. I don’t ask things of you, you don’t ask things of me. We will work -- _together_ \-- but for now, we stay out of each other’s way. When it is time to discuss our next attack, you will be told. And in exchange, I will not lay a finger on your brother.”

She paused, and raised the crescent moon tip up a little more. He saw the spark of light glint across the top of it, and she gave him a stare.

“Unless those terms are unacceptable to you?” she asked.

Nate saw the weapon, and her, and went quiet. 

“No,” he said, at last. 

“Good,” she said, and lowered the staff. “You have seen your room. I will be in the upper floors. Do not disturb me.”

“...fine,” he muttered, and waited until she was gone before dispelling the magical embrace of the grid on his skin, and slowly walked -- fists gripped tight the whole time -- to his room.

\--

The anxiety of knowing a sixth Ranger was out there, one just as capable and strong as them, but working with Uliana, hung over the team for the days that followed. Nate was his ever typical grouchy self, grumbling about it passively about ‘another headache’, but they could all tell they were bothered. Even Kay seemed a little concerned, especially after the thorough beating the Ranger gave Allen.

Jessie was trying to raise their moods, and -- as always -- brought home some of her mom’s cooking. Thanks to the sudden shift in weather, she had made chicken noodle, and she carried the massive tub of it under her arm as she slipped into the secret entrance, crawled down the hatch ladder with one hand, and walked the long distance into the command center.

And then, sitting in the center of the far side of the room, facing in the middle, was Allen. He was morphed, too, with the green-and-white fabric stretched tight over his wiry frame. His Viperfangs rested in his lap, hands gently holding the grips. His legs were folded across one another, feet tucked under, and the snake-themed helmet rested on the floor next to him.

Jessie walked closer, looking at him curiously, trying to mute her steps. She couldn’t tell, but she didn’t think he had heard her come in. His eyes were closed tight, visible frustration on his face. 

Jessie’s eyes were locked onto him, and she tilted her head curiously. _What is he doing,_ she thought, and kept sneaking closer.

The Yellow Ranger tried to creep carefully into the kitchen, and slip the soup tupperware onto the table, but the sound of the door opening was loud enough to startle him. His eyes flicked open, and he looked right at her.

“Ah, whoops,” Jessie said, and grimaced. “I, uh, didn’t mean to bother you.” 

Allen sighed, and slumped forward, daggers clattering out of his hand as he moved. “It’s fine,” he said. “Not getting anywhere anyway.”

Jessie quickly put down the soup, and started walking over towards him, to get so neither of them had to shout. “What’s up?” she asked. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, and huffed. “No. I don’t know.”

“Jagoranger still bothering you?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Allen replied. His stomach twisted as he said it. He didn’t like lying to anyone, least of all Jessie. “Not really. I just…”

He sighed and leaned back, then nodded at her. “What’s it like, anyway?” he asked, then nodded past her. “When you change your Crocoblaster.”

Jessie turned her head, to where the long yellow rifle sat in its spot on the rack, hovering in the air in yellow light. “Oh,” she said, and glanced at him. “I...I dunno, I never thought about it. Why?”

“Because...I still can’t get my Fangs to charge,” he said, and picked up one of them off the floor. He rolled it over his hand, staring at it, looking at the silver of the blade reflecting his face. “I’ve tried a few times. In my fight against him, too. It doesn’t work.”

“Huh,” she said. She didn’t know that. “What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just... _do_ it, I guess,” he gestured out with his hands. “Like, sort of like how it feels when we morph. I just…” he flexed his arms and clenched his fists, and leaned in. “You know. _Push_ the grid into my blades. And it doesn’t work.”

Jessie’s eyebrows went up. “....that’s what you do?” 

“...is that not right?” Allen asked. “I mean, what do _you_ do?”

Jessie thought for a moment, looking down, pursing her lips. The thought had clearly never occurred to her.

She looked at her hands, then cradled an imaginary gun, remembering the sensation of the grip on her hands and the connection to the grid humming through the Blaster, and curling her fingers as she remembered the silent wordless command she sent.

“It’s like...” she said, haltingly. “Asking the weapon to help you.”

“Asking it?”

“I mean, not _literally,_ ” Jessie added, quickly. “But, you know, like...your weapons are kind of a part of the suit, and you’re requesting more?”

“A part of the suit,” Allen muttered, and looked down at his blades. 

“Yeah, like,” she started to say, but the crestfallen look on his face stopped her. “And, you...don’t know what I’m talking about…”

He shook his head. “No idea,” he muttered, and slumped again. “Great.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’ll get it,” Jessie said, and slipped off her seat to walk next to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Nobody’s perfect right away. You just gotta work at it.”

“Hm,” Allen said. He didn’t like the sound of that. It sounded like he was still too weak to fight his brother. And he needed to get better, _quick,_ before Nate struck again.

Jessie saw he didn’t look any better, and took her hand away. “Listen, I brought some soup,” she said. “I was going to stick it in the fridge, did you want any?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not hungry.” 

It was a lie; soup sounded amazing. But he was very mad at himself for not getting anywhere with his attempts to charge his weapons, and he didn’t want to budge from the spot he was in.

“Well, okay,” Jessie said. “I’ll leave you be then. Just...don’t push yourself, alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, and gave a little nod. “...Thanks.”

“Of course,” she said, and stood, dusting her hands off, and turned to walk away.

Allen let her leave, his mind already wandering. He stared at the other dagger lying on the floor, his power weapons, the green mouth of a viper opening at the hilt into the silver glint of the blade. They still defied him, ignoring his orders.

 _I need more power to beat Nate,_ he thought, and again picked the blade up. He stared at them both in his hands, and ran his gloved thumb over the eyes of the snake.

 _Asking, huh,_ he thought.

Allen shifted in place, held both of his Viperfangs in his hand, and took a few deep and calming breaths. He had spent days focusing on pulling the grid out of the blades as though they were magic bags, reaching into the same energy as when he morphed, demanding it appear to him like the morphin grid was a dog that needed orders.

Instead, as he sat there, Allen tried to gently coax it out of that space in the air. It was harder than Jessie made it sound; as he reached for it with his mind and heart, he could feel it shift around his attempts, as if a stray cat suspicious of a gentle hand.

In his meditative state, it was like floating in an empty void, and feeling a blob of warmth and comfort just outside of your range, invisible and yet so present and _there._ He couldn’t see, not really, but he could sense it, and he beckoned it. The grid was less of an animal or a person and more of an energy, like a water one could cup in their hands, and Allen could feel the difficulty in getting his ‘hands’ to make the shape necessary to hold it.

More than once, he lost his patience as he could sense the grid retreating from his touch, and anger welled up in his chest, lashing out and making noises of frustration. But he kept at it, thinking to himself, _I need this to beat Nate. I have to beat Nate._

It took hours, but at last, Allen reached out for the grid, and the grid responded to his gentle prompting. He could feel it react to him, that same sense of enveloping light and strength seeping into his body, and he pulled a little more of it in. The grid obeyed; it was the same sensation as morphing; the sudden rush of might to your muscles and skin, your senses tingling as they sharpened.

 _Getting there,_ he thought, but a curiosity pricked at his mind. He could interact with the grid while morphed, yes, but as he felt the energy caress his skin and pour into his muscles, he could sense a certain _more_ within it.

The hands that cupped at the water could hold far, far more than it seemed at first.

 _Okay,_ Allen thought. _Let’s try it._

He invited the grid into himself again, and it slid over his arms until it enveloped his torso. A pressure came to his chest, but it was comforting and warm, like an especially thick blanket on a cold day. The grid radiated through him, and Allen could feel it touch him in his bones. 

_This is...intense,_ he thought, but he wasn’t scared. It was more, but it felt amazing.

When he brandished his morpher and called for the power of the viper, it was one thing; a quick rush as his body was fused to the grid. This was so much more intimate, in ways it was hard to even reckon with. It felt like nothing he had ever gone through before; a heat that touched him to his core, giving him focus.

He laughed a little suddenly; it kind of tickled, too.

Something in the far distant real world clattered to the ground; Allen felt himself violently yanked out of his meditation, and suddenly he was no longer floating in the nothingspace, dancing with the morphin grid. 

He was back in the Ranger base, sitting bow-legged on the floor, the blue monitor of Soloz’s screen just to his left. His right foot had gone a little numb thanks to his position, and he was absolutely starving. He could see a light coming from the kitchen, and in the doorway was Brock, holding a bowl as he talked to someone there. 

Allen’s eyes looked down, and he gasped in excitement.

His Viperfangs were glowing, a bright green shimmer that started from the handle and went all the way to the tip. He held them up, and looked down at his wrists; they hummed slightly, and the sensation of the grid was tangible in his body as it radiated away from him and into the weapons. Or perhaps vice versa. 

Slowly, the glow faded, as the energy ran out. But Allen knew how to make it work. And he gave a little smile to himself as he looked up, to Brock.

“Hey, Brock?” he said, loud enough to catch his attention. “Can I spar with you for a minute? I want to try something.”

\--

The days stretched on, and for the first time, Brock was starting to get the feeling of boredom. He spent much of his time working on his bike, replacing the broken bits piece by piece with the base’s fabricator, and of course getting plenty drunk. He didn’t get himself tanked, but he often passed out with a pleasant haze, enough to drown the back pain and the depression so he could sleep.

As he wandered to his room, liquor in his hand, Brock craned his neck over to see Allen. Allen was again in the training space in the side of the room, doing slow katas with his blades out. He twirled one in his hand, then cut low, then high, then spun in place to stab down. 

_Kid’s been hard at it for a while,_ Brock thought, and sipped at the booze. _Guess that Jagoranger really hurt his pride._

Brock hummed under his breath as he went back to his room, flopping back onto the bed with a relaxed groan. 

_Kinda reminds me of Adam back in the day,_ he mused, thoughtfully. _He never did take it well when a monster got the upper hand on him._

Brock felt a little swoop of sadness in his head, one that the pleasant buzz of alcohol dulled enough that he didn’t have to dwell. It was getting harder not to think of the old team from time to time, especially now that he was in the red suit once more. Fortunately, booze was never too far away.

The alarm went off in the next room. Brock sighed.

“There it is,” he groaned, and dropped the glass on the nightstand as he hefted himself up, ignoring the twinge of pain in his upper back. 

Allen was already at the console, with Blaire at his side, who was drawing in his room just a moment ago. “What’s up, Soloz?” he asked, head tilted up.

Brock shambled over to stand next to the other two boys as Soloz’s blue face appeared on the screen. “I have detected an explosion of clayheads in downtown Beacon City,” he boomed. “Comparing it to the map the Yellow and Black Ranger worked on...they are on 74th and Samson.”

“Where’s the monster?” Brock asked.

“There is not one that I can detect,” Soloz replied. “I believe it is only clayheads.”

Brock tilted his head. “Huh,” he said. “Really?” 

“My sensors did not detect a crystal entering the city.”

Allen perked up, and turned to Brock. “The Jagoranger,” he said, urgently. “He’s there. He has to be.”

Brock didn’t look convinced, and ran a hand over his beard. “Maybe,” he said, tapping his chin. “But maybe we can sit this one out.”

“Do...you think C-Sec could handle clayheads?” Blaire asked, curiously.

Brock nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “This seems weird. Maybe we shouldn’t jump in, C-Sec isn’t exactly friendly to us.”

Allen gestured to Soloz. “But you heard him, they’re in downtown!” he argued. “That’s close to us. C-Sec barracks is on the other side of the city. People could get hurt. And the Jagoranger might be there, too! C-Sec can’t handle _him._ ”

Brock made a ‘hmm’ noise, thinking still, looking up at Soloz as he did.

“I...I dunno,” Blaire muttered, and looked away. “It seems like a waste to throw clayheads at nothing.”

“You think it’s a distraction?” Brock asked, glancing at Blaire.

Blaire’s nerve left him again. “I, uh,” he muttered, and cast his head down. “I mean, maybe. I wouldn’t know.”

Allen looked at Brock; the thoughtful expression told Allen that he was considering sitting this one out. Anxiety gripped his chest.

“Look,” Allen said, hotly “We don’t have to call the girls. We can just pop out, clean out the area, and come back. We’ll stay alert for C-Sec, and have Soloz watch the sky for crystals. Worst case scenario, we call for backup or bail out.”

Brock regarded his Green Ranger. He could see the aggression in Allen, in the way his body was humming with energy and nerves. The long pause between fights was getting to him, or maybe the lingering thread of the Jagoranger was making him jittery. And either way, Brock knew he wasn’t going to be talked out of it.

“Okay, fine,” he said, and glanced up to the monitor. “Soloz? Call the girls, have them meet us there. We’ll knock it out in half an hour.” 

Allen visibly relaxed, and exhaled. “Yes,” he said. “Good. Let’s do it.”

“Then morph up,” Brock said, and snapped his wrist down. The other two Rangers followed suit.

_“Red mandrill -- jungle power!”_

_“Blue eagle -- jungle power!”_

_“Green viper -- jungle power!”_

Blue, green, and red light enveloped them, and they were Power Rangers when it faded. 

“Soloz, keep an eye on time,” the Red Ranger said. “We don’t want C-Sec sniffing up our butts.”

“I will,” Soloz said, and the three Rangers took off running down the hall that sent them towards Beacon City. “Good luck, all of you.”

Alone, Soloz’s screen flicked off, and the lights dimmed, until the glow of the weapons rack tinted the room with faded multicolored light. It was as silent as the base ever got; when there were no humans inside it, and all that filled the space was the gentle hum of the power that pumped through the walls and consoles. It was only in this state when the team was on assignment. Minutes ticked by in the empty base, quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

The lights came on suddenly again as a door slid open. Soloz’s screen flicked to life, and the face appeared on the screen once more. He scanned the room for the body he could sense.

“Rangers?” he asked. “I did not expect to see you back this soon. I believed you were going to engage the clayheads.”

There was a screech of metal exiting a scabbard, and a blade suddenly made two quick cuts into the command console, sending sparks everywhere.

“R-R-Rangeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-” Soloz sputtered, and the screen flickered and shifted in place, audio of his voice hitching and stretching for long seconds. The face in the screen distorted, and shifted out of focus, and suddenly the monitor was filled with scattered numbers and lines of extensive code, crashing into the blue outline of Soloz’s cheek and jaw as he glitched.

The speakers became more garbled. “I - I - I - ERORR ERROR ERR - R - R - R R-” Soloz’s voice sputtered, and the noise became so loud that the figure grew tired of them and speared his blade straight through the console, sending sparks everywhere and cutting the noise short. Soloz’s glitched face vanished, and the monitor went blank.

“I never did like you,” Nate said, and slid the Jago Saber back into the sheath.

Coldly, he ignored the silent monitor and started to walk towards the zord bay, blade in hand. 


	8. The Dark Machine

Allen made a quick uppercut with his left Fang clutched in his hand, and the blade’s tip sliced right through a clayhead’s mangled, deformed weak point and exploded into a cloud of dust and bits. His body crumbled soon after, and Allen took a step in, just as another foe stepped towards him.

He didn’t even bother bringing the blades up; he sprung into the air, and kicked at its head hard enough to cause it to burst into a million pieces.

The Green Ranger dropped to the other side, on one knee.  _ Getting the hang of this,  _ he thought, and turned to the scrap the other Rangers were in the middle of.

They were having as easy of a time as he was. Brock hadn’t even summoned his Blade, instead grabbing one by the neck and slamming it into the ground, then smashing it to pieces with a punch that was powerful enough to crack the pavement beneath his feet.

Allen turned his head as he heard a sudden  _ blam blam blam _ from his left. A black-suited Ranger was rushing forward, staff curled under her arm, and a yellow one had a long rifle resting on her arm.

“I’m crushed you left me out,” Kay shouted as she twirled the staff around, bringing it down hard on a clayhead. The thing ducked away, and she responded with a spin and pole butt smash right into its head. 

“Just clayheads,” Allen shot back, as he brought his blades up in preparation for the next one. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Oh I know,” Kay said, and twirled the staff again. “But I  _ like  _ hitting things.”

Brock looked over, watching as Blaire sniped two more clayheads with expertly aimed bow shots. His hand came to his helmet, at his ear.

“Soloz,” he said. “What are we looking at on time?”

Silence. The only sound he heard was the fighting right around him.

“Soloz?” he repeated, louder.  _ “ _ Soloz, are you there?”

“Incoming!” Jessie shouted, and she skidded to a halt next to a wall, gun focused down a nearby alleyway. Another wave of clayheads were rushing from that direction, grey gloved hands and deformed heads bobbing around as they rushed in her direction.

“Oh  _ hell _ yes,” Kay said, and twirled her staff as she stepped forward, right at the bottleneck.

Allen saw his team leader standing, hand to his ear, and could feel that something was wrong. He took two quick steps over, eyes still looking at the oncoming horde as it crashed into Kay, who only cheered in delight as her Ivorystaff wailed on the oncoming flood. 

The Green Ranger turned his head to Brock. “What’s wrong?”

“Soloz isn’t responding,” Brock said, tapping his head. “Might be a communicator bug.”

“He didn’t call me either,” Allen said. 

A clayhead broke through the line, and rushed past Kay towards Allen and Brock. Allen spun, Viperfangs tucked low, and cut in an upward arc hard enough to blast the straggler’s head into dust. When finished, he turned back to Brock. “You think it’s a glitch in the base?”

“No idea,” Brock said. “And I don’t-”

Jessie let out a yelp. “Problem!” she shouted, at the top of her lungs. “Bail!”

Brock’s head was turned by the unmistakable sound of boots marching towards them at high speed. A small squadron of City Security, led by two Elites at the front, were heading towards them at top speed, and Allen could see the X-Rifle battalion in the back brandishing their guns in preparation.

“C-Sec!” he shouted. “Rooftops, now!”

Jessie and Blaire sprung away in streaks of yellow and blue. Kay kicked a clayhead away from herself and gave a mighty jump backwards, tumbling twice into the air before touching down, then giving a mighty yell as she shot into a single vertical leap that sent her to the rooftop. 

“Hate those guys,” Brock said, and turned to take a few steps away.

“God, same,” Allen grumbled, and they both broke into a run.

Just behind them, there was a yell muffled behind C-Sec armored helmet. “Theseus, red!” 

“What the hell is a-” Brock said, his legs tensed to jump, just as something powerful wrapped around his torso. He let out a startled yelp, and looked down -- a wire was curled around his torso, just catching his left arm as it was at his side, and two round connectors like cueballs were jammed together at his biceps. 

He turned his head to the soldiers advancing -- there was one, on the ground, holding what looked like a rocket launcher, with a single long wire erupting from the end and attached right to Brock’s coil. And the soldiers were advancing on him.

“Red!” Allen shouted.

“Go!” Brock shouted. He pushed hard against the wire, using his caught arm to free himself, and for a second he saw the connectors slowly start to separate. But there was a sudden jolt of energy between the nodes, and they smashed back together, constricting him even tighter.

“Not without you!” Allen said, and grabbed the wire, trying to wrench the front apart.

But he had no sooner gotten his hands on it when a jolt of electricity shot through him, forcing his hands away with an explosion of grid feedback. Brock let out a yell of agony and hit the ground, whole body twitching as the power coursed through him; sparks shot from his suit at all angles.

Jessie’s crocodile themed yellow helmet poked over the side. “Red!” she yelled, and went to stand. “We have to-”

The Black Ranger at her side grabbed her arm. “Wait!” she shouted. “Support fire, now!”

The Blaster and Bow came out and at once unloaded bullets right at the exposed low ground soldiers advancing. They scattered and went for cover, and the moment gave Allen the time he needed to brandish his Viperfangs.

“Hold still!” he shouted, and raised them both up.

Brock did; the blades slashed down, just clipping Brock’s suit and causing sparks on contact. It hurt, but the wire fell to the ground in two pieces. 

Allen didn’t wait for orders -- he at once curled his arm around Brock, gripped him tight, and jumped as hard as he could into the air. They touched down on the rooftop a moment later, and Kay was at Brock’s other side to heft him up. Blaire and Jessie jumped away, and green and black assisted red.

They managed to get a mile away before stopping. Brock let out a groan as he fell to one knee, hand coming up. “I’m...I’m fine,” he said, but his breath was ragged. “I’m fine.”

“You mean aside from being barbecued?” Kay asked.

Brock let out a snort of laughter. “Yeah,” he said. “That.”

“So where the heck was Soloz?” Allen asked. “I thought he was keeping time.”

“I don’t know,” Brock said. “But he’s not responding.”

“Let me try,” Jessie said, and put her hand to her head. “Soloz, come in. Are you there?”

Silence, again. Kay’s head turned to the horizon, towards the west, and her head suddenly lifted up. “Uhm, guys?” she said, and her voice was tinged with alarm.

“Nothing,” Jessie reported, looking up. “I think something’s wrong. Maybe Blake learned how to suppress our comms?”

“Not likely,” Brock replied. “Otherwise he-”

“Hey!” Kay shouted, much louder this time. “Losers!”

All four Rangers finally looked up. Kay pointed at the horizon, on the other side of town. 

Standing among the buildings that towered tall and mighty, was a walking bipedal drum, with hands the size of trucks waving around. There was a distant cry of laughter, the kind only monsters could make, when their mission of creating rampant destruction was underway. He smashed a hand into a skyscraper, and it buckled under his punch, but thankfully didn’t fall.

Kay was still looking right at it, and she said, “I don’t think that guy works for C-Sec.”

\--

Another of Uliana’s portals exploded behind Nate’s head, cutting him off from the work he was doing. He peered into the vortex of white and saw only the Imperial Castle, and Uliana, her arms spread as magic trailed off her fingertips.

“Uliana?” he asked. “What-”

“Change of plans,” she said, urgently. “Wrap it up and get out of there.”

Nate didn’t move, and his eyebrows narrowed. “But I’m not finished. I took out Soloz and-”

“The Rangers are on their way back,” she said, urgently. “And the monster I sent became Mega sized faster than I expected. They’ll be here soon, and you need to be gone when they arrive.”

“Then...let me attack the city,” Nate offered. “The Rangers can fight the monster.”

“C-Sec is in force and locking down the city,” she said. “There won’t be anything to attack. Jagoranger,  _ get in here, now. _ ”

Nate’s face read annoyance. “Then give me a Zord and send me to fight with the monster!”

The Emissary’s face flashed in anger. “Your...Zord isn’t ready yet,” she said, and he could feel the pause in her voice.

“‘Isn’t ready?’” Nate repeated, irritably. “Are you just...making this up as you go along?”

“ _ Jagoranger, now, _ ” Uliana yelled, much louder than before. “We do  _ not have time for this. _ ”

He saw the portal flicker and shrink, and saw his window to leave fading with it. Before he could think twice about it, with the lingering threat of the Rangers on the way, Nate made his choice and jumped in.

The portal collapsed just after he touched down, and Uliana gave a huff of relief. “ _ Thank you, _ ” she said, sternly. “Though next time, don’t question me. I don’t-”

Nate said nothing as he stood to full height, looking past her, and walked directly away. His shoulder rudely bumped into hers as he passed by, and the flutter of his scarf trailing behind lightly bumped into her. Once in the hallway, the helmet came off and was tucked under his arm, but he didn’t give her so much as a glance before he was gone.

Uliana bristled. “You insubordinate-” she started to say, but stopped, and gave a huff out of her nose. “Be that way, then. I have more important things to do.”

She turned, briskly walking away from the space where she did her magic portals, and instead sat in her throne. The mirror slid in front of her, and the image shimmered until it was a bird’s eye view of Beacon City, centered entirely on the drum monster stomping around. 

“I have a battle to watch,” she muttered, and sat back, hands clenching the arm of her chair.

\--

The doors to the Ranger base slid open, and Brock was the first one through the doors, his helmet in his hand. The others followed suit, Blaire still remaining helmeted as always. 

“Soloz!” Brock shouted. “Soloz, what’s the silence, did-”

He screeched to a halt as his eyes fell upon the sparking, slashed mess of the command console. His head turned to the monitor just to his right, overhead -- the blue shifting panel where a face should be was a mess of corrupted code and blue blank spaces. Something popped in the console, and Allen let out a yelp of surprise as he covered his face.

“Well,” Brock said, dryly, as though it were obnoxious weather. “That explains that.”

Behind him, totally silent, Allen’s face went white as he gazed upon the carnage done by his brother.  _ Oh no, _ he thought, and his heart started hammering.  _ Oh god. Nate... _

“The...the Jagoranger did this,” Jessie said, and shook her head. “But...but how did he…”

“Security is probably based around having a morpher,” Brock said, and pointed at the destroyed console. “So he probably walked right through the front door.”

Kay peered at him curiously. “How do you know  _ that _ ?”

Brock shrugged. “Just...call it an educated guess,” Brock said, and waved a hand. “That’s not the point. We can figure this out later. For now, scramble the Zords. Move!”

The team strapped their helmets back on, and as a group moved into the Zord bay. Allen was relieved to put his on; he didn’t want anyone to notice the guilt and shame he knew was all over his face. 

Brock skidded into a halt as he sprung on top of his Mandrill Zord, giving a point out. “Get to the spot, form up!” he shouted. “When we get to the city, form the Megazord, try to get this thing away from-”

“Brock, wait!” Jessie shouted back, and pointed. “The doors!”

The Zord bay doors worked on a massive chain that connected the base of the things to the top, and fed into a spool that rolled them up. The chain, however, laid in a rumple on the floor on either side. It looked like it weighed a ton or more, and the slash through it was high up enough that almost the entire thing was in a messy pile.

“Oh no,” Brock groaned, and didn’t need to look at the other doors to know they were all cut too. The stress finally caught up to him, and he let out an angry swear and punched the hatch for his Zord. The metal banged in response.

Kay looked up at him, waiting, and finally broke the silence to say, “Well? So what do we  _ do _ ?”

Silence for a moment; Brock put a hand to his head.  _ No Zords, mega monster rampage, _ he thought.  _ Come on, Brock, think of something. _

“Can’t we use the Zords?” Jessie asked, still waiting for Brock to respond. “Lift the doors up with yours?”

“They’re too big and heavy,” Kay said. “It’d require two.”

Brock pointed at her. “Your Elephant Zord has the trunk,” he said, pointing at her. “Mine has hands. Get in, get to the right side.”

Kay saw the urgency and didn’t argue as she turned and sprinted to her Zord. Brock slipped into his, the panels at once coming to life under his touch and his screen winking to life. He stood the Zord to full height and stomped forward two steps to the left side, and Kay took a second getting her Elephant to the side -- the head dipped low, curled around the chain, and pulled up.

The door groaned as it ascended, and Brock could feel the arms of the Zords struggle to lift it.  _ Son of a, _ he thought.  _ What did that guy  _ **_do_ ** _ to this thing? _

They combined their effort and managed to get the door up a couple dozen feet, but as the thing went higher, the controls fought him more. He gave up and put a hand to his head. “Allen, Jessie, you two get out there,” he said. “Slip under the door while we have it open. You should fit.”

“What should we do?”

“You take point Jess,” Brock said. “Go take on the monster. We’ll stay here and try to get these fixed enough to get Blaire’s Eagle out.”

“No Megazord?” Jessie said.

“You’ll have to make do.”

“But-” Jessie started to say, but she didn’t finish what she was saying. She stiffened a little, head going a little higher and arms locking at her side. “Okay. Will do. Allen?”

“Yeah,” Allen said, and his voice was tinted with worry.

Jessie piloted her Crocodile out of the open bay, lowering the head and tail to slip out. She could hear her tail make a thunderous bang as it smacked the underside of the door. The metallic green snake slid out with no difficulty, and just after he did it slammed shut behind them.

They were at full speed, rushing towards Beacon City, but it was silent aside from the mechanical noises of her giant tank powering over the land. Jessie gave a nervous little shake, and exhaled before she turned her comms on.

“So, uh,” she managed, trying to put on the facade of a leader in charge. “I figure we both get in for bite range and try to take him down that way, since there’s no megazord.”

“Yeah…” Allen replied. “Sounds good.”

The Yellow Ranger could hear the heaviness in his voice, but she didn’t know why. “You nervous?”

Allen paused before answering. “Yeah,” he lied, nodding. “A little.”

Jessie could hear that he wasn’t being honest with her. But she had no options, and a bigger problem loomed over them as they grew closer to the walls of Beacon City, and the outline of the drum monster grew more clear.

\--

Uliana sat entirely still in her throne. A mirror hung before her a few feet away, glowing with a magical light. Inside was the vision of her drum monster, watching as it laughed and smashed aside a building, only for it to stubbornly remain upright. Mounted guns from the city walls suddenly opened fire, spewing beams of energy like a mega sized X-Rifle right at it. 

It flinched, but ignored them, suddenly pounding on its belly, causing shockwaves of sonic energy to radiate from him. The waves blasted the walls apart, causing no structural damage but causing the mounted turrets to spark and explode.

Uliana watched, and her grip on the arm of the chair tightened.

The Crocodile and Viper Zords appeared soon after -- she visibly relaxed, and watched as the machines circled the monster carefully. The drum monster beat its stomach again, causing more of the shockwaves. The Zords darted out of the way, but kept him at range. 

She watched as the tail of the Crocodile suddenly came up and the tip started firing, with a loud  _ blam blam blam blam _ as the tip sprouted laser fire. The drum monster staggered back, bouncing into a building. The Viper struck, shooting forward to bite him right on the outstretched arm. 

He howled; Uliana sat forward.

The Crocodile suddenly shot forward, tank treads powering on the concrete, and the mouth shot open to take a bite as well -- but the drum monster whipped the Viper, still attached to his arm, right into the tank, sending it careening away. It then started beating on the viper, struggling to make it detach.

Uliana’s grip clung to the arm of her chair again. She shifted in place, lips pressed together.

The monster started punching again, right at the Viper Zord’s head. It clung stubbornly, so much so that the drum monster beat his free hand on his chest, and the sonic vibration exploded out right into where the cockpit had to be. Uliana could see the snake Zord’s segmented body rattling, and yet it held on, fangs sunk deep. The Crocodile Zord arrived again, and the drum beast whipped his bitten arm in front, blocking the way.

A streak of blue suddenly blasted into the monster’s head from the side, and he reeled, stumbling back from the shot. An eagle soared overhead a moment later, the metallic plating colored a deep blue with white accents along the feathers. The Crocodile Zord shot forward in the opportunity, and bit the monster’s leg.

The jaws clenched down; the drum monster’s leg exploded into a shower of sparks and clay. Uliana watched as the fight suddenly turned now that they had support fire, with the Eagle Zord doing strafing runs on the drum monster. In no time, the Viper bit into the body, as did the Croc, and with a howl of pain the monster finally fell into pieces.

And Uliana breathed an exhale, quietly, eyes sliding closed as her body relaxed. A hand waved, and the vision before her dissolved. Her heart was pounding; she leaned back to rest her head, and allowed it to slow.

“That was close,” she muttered, under her breath, and rubbed her fingers to her eyes. The stress had built on the muscles of her face, and she could feel the tension in her body coming back to bite her now that the moment had passed. Her face felt damp too; she was sweating.

“...ugh,” Uliana moaned. “My head hurts.”

\--

Celebrations went around once they were back in the base. Jessie was beaming with excitement, happy her brief stint as leader panned out extremely well, and congratulated Allen on his grit and resolve at clinging to Drumster once he bit him. The Blue Ranger, silent as ever, nonetheless had his head tilted up a bit, and his shoulders back with a hint of pride. Allen’s excitement was slightly dour.

_ Probably still upset about the Jagoranger, _ Jessie thought, seeing his pained smile.  _ Poor guy.  _

Brock met the small crew, his helmet tucked under his arm; there was no mirth on his face, and if anything he looked annoyed at his team’s revelry. 

“Alright, alright, enough high fives,” he said, waving a hand. “The easy part is over. We have a lot of work to do, and we’re on a timer.”

“Uh, I dunno if you noticed?” Kay asked, and thumbed behind herself. “But we just  _ won. _ ”

Brock’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, did we?” he asked, and thumbed towards the door chains lying on the floor. “How long do you think until Uliana sends another monster while we’re limited? Or the Jagoranger again?”

Blaire and Jessie visibly deflated, and looked between each other. 

“Or more clayheads?” Brock continued. “What about all three?”

Kay peered at him a moment. “Are you this much of a killjoy jerk  _ all _ the time or just  _ most  _ of the time?”

Her prod sparked a reaction -- Brock’s face hardened, and his lips pressed into a line, shooting her a glare.

Jessie quickly jumped in; “Hey hey, come on,” she said, putting her hands up. “We’re all stressed. Let’s just get to fixing things. Brock, I’m going to take Blaire to fix the console and try to get Soloz online, is that okay?”

The Red Ranger’s face relaxed, and he looked between her and Kay a moment, indecisively. At last, he said, “Yeah, that’ll be fine. Take Kay, too, so I don’t hit her.”

Kay gave a snort of amusement at that. Brock ignored it and gestured to the green-suited boy next to him. “Allen, you’re with me. We need to fix the doors.”

Brock made sure to give Kay a hard stare as he turned in place and walked off, slipping his helmet back on as he did. Jessie let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and looked at Kay. 

The Black Ranger had a suppressed smirk on her face, still looking at the retreating Brock. She then noticed Jessie, and her smile vanished, forcing her mouth to flatten out and hide her amusement. She then looked away, badly pretending to be thinking of something else.

\--

“Up a little further,” Allen said.

He was crouched on the wrist of the Mandrill Zord, looking closely at the chain clutched in its massive grip, each finger looking like truck tires curled around the metal. The arm raised, slowly, with a little mechanical jump as Brock stopped it.

“How’s that?” Brock asked through their communicators.

“Perfect.”

The Mandrill Zord froze in place, and a second later the hatch at the shoulder popped open, and Brock climbed out. He wobbled a bit in place as he carefully navigated the boxy, angled shoulder and bicep of his Zord, arms spread to balance out as his feet found footing. 

Allen stood to full height, and made a quick hop off the Zord’s arm, falling the twenty foot drop to the ground and lightly touching down on the ground with a gentle ‘thump.’ Once there, he snagged a few parts for the new chain that they had just gotten the base’s fabricator to whip up. They were a little misshapen and discolored, but they would work.

The door chains in design looked more like a bicycle chain, but with pins bigger than Allen’s forearm. It made them incredibly sturdy, but it  _ also _ meant it would require a ton of work to repair what the Jagoranger did to them, including welding and replacing a multitude of pieces. And that was for each door, twice.

Allen sprung back up onto the arm of the Zord, and easily walked a few feet along. Brock was sitting at the flat part of the Mandrill’s hand, a small welder in place. 

“Here,” Allen said, and handed him the parts.

Brock grunted an affirmation. Then, a moment later, he turned his head to his Green Ranger, and gave a nod as he added, “Uh, thanks.”

“Yeah,” Allen said.

Brock didn’t reply for a moment as he grappled with the broken chain, wrenching the cut pieces away from the fully connected parts. After a pause, he turned his head back again -- Allen was there, standing up, looking into the middle distance. He was also, Brock noted, folding his arms and barely even paying attention to the place he stood.

“You, uh, seem pretty light on your feet,” he said, nodding to Allen.

Allen snapped out of some kind of internal moment. “Huh?”

Brock shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, and went back to his work on the chain. “You seem distracted.”

Allen’s reply was tinged with heaviness. “...yeah,” he agreed.

“Jaguars on the brain?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” Brock said, and resumed his tinkering as he struggled to wrench a pin apart. It didn’t budge, and he gave a huff. “Hey, come give me a hand.”

“What do you need?”

“Can you-” Brock started to say, but Allen gave a dextrous hop over his head and landed expertly on the thumb of the Mandrill Zord. He didn’t even wobble or shake as he crouched down next to the chain and looked at it, then at Brock, waiting for orders.

_ Huh, _ he thought, and pointed. “Hold that piece, and push against it when I pull.”

“Sure,” Allen said.

With their combined Ranger augmented strength, the part popped free, and Brock tossed it over the side, letting it land on the ground with a deafening  _ bang _ that he ignored. He snagged the new piece and looked at Allen as he did -- without his helmet, Allen’s worry was visible on his face.

“So, uh,” Brock said, struggling to come up with words. “Don’t blame yourself, by the way. It isn’t your fault.”

Allen’s mouth flattened a bit, and he looked at the chain -- it was easier than looking at his leader.

“I mean it, it isn’t,” Brock emphasized, a little harder. “None of us knew he could break in here. If anything, blame Soloz’s crappy security.”

Again, Allen didn’t speak. He just held the chain where Brock ordered him to, an unreadable expression of indecision on his face.

Brock exhaled. “Come on, kid, you gotta give me something,” he said, and gave him a small friendly slap on the arm. “I’m drowning here.”

Allen finally gave a small smile, but it was pained. “I just,” he said, at length. “I just don’t know what to do to beat him. He keeps out-thinking us. He’s strong as hell. He avoids directly fighting us all as a team. I’m....worried we won’t be able to defeat him. That  _ I  _ won’t be able to..”

Brock absorbed this a moment as he gently tapped the pin into the link. “Well, maybe we will, maybe we won’t,” he said. “But it’s not your fault either way.”

Allen still wasn’t looking at him. Brock said nothing, having already tried his best. But as he sat there, quietly taking orders with fixing the chain, his mind was clearly full. Both men put their helmets on as Brock brandished the welder, and Allen’s gloved hands felt nothing as the lit tip blew fire over his fingertips, fusing the chain together.

Allen removed his helmet when it was over, and his expression had shifted. “What if,” he said, suddenly, looking at Brock. “What if...we could get him on our side?”

The Red Ranger’s eyebrow raised in confusion. “You’re welcome to try,” he said. “But it’s a hard sell given we don’t know who he is.”

“He’s strong,” Allen said. “He could be a good ally.”

“That’s a pretty big  _ if, _ kid,” Brock said, eyes on the chain. His mind was focused as he wrenched a piece together, bending it into place. “Stupid...metal...come on…” he gave a frustrated grunt, and tugged again.

“The Rangers brought over villains in the past,” Allen said, a little more urgently. “It’s possible.”

“It is  _ possible, _ ” Brock replied, but his voice was tinged with distraction as his hands wrestled with the chain. “But it’s a longshot. I mean,  _ maybe _ he’s being mind controlled, but neither of us know. I mean, I wasn’t  _ there,  _ but it isn’t like it was with Tommy. That was different. He-” 

“Tommy?” Allen suddenly asked, looking at Brock. “Who’s...Tommy?”

Brock suddenly realized he had said too much. He tried to blow it off casually, shaking his head and giving a light, “Oh, nobody.”

“No, wait, who’s Tommy? What do you mean you weren’t-” Allen’s eyes went wide. “Wait...Tommy  _ Oliver?  _ How would you know him?”

“Kid, I said it was nobody,” Brock said, a little louder this time. “Don’t worry about it.”

Allen went quiet, hands going to his lap. “Okay,” he said, and his voice was defeated.

“Good,” the Red Ranger said, and reached up. “Here, help me with this piece.”

Allen did, but his motions were slower, his mind full. Brock hoped quietly that his brain wasn’t putting pieces together, but he knew his team. He knew Allen was sharp. He would figure it out eventually. 

They worked in silence a moment, until the bit of chain in their hands popped free. Allen sat back, and Brock’s neck burned as he knew he was being stared at.

“Brock...were you a Power Ranger?” Allen said, slowly. “I mean, before all this?”

The question hung in the air for some time. Brock didn’t look at him. He held the bit of chain in his hand, thinking, mouth pressed tightly together.

“I’m just a nobody,” he said. “Just some dumb loser in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Allen stared at him for some time, and Brock didn’t need him to speak to know that he didn’t buy his dodge of the question. Brock didn’t say he was, but he also didn’t say he  _ wasn’t.  _

Another silence, and then Allen looked up at him. “You’re Rocky, aren’t you?” Allen said, abruptly. “The Red Ranger. That’s...that’s how you knew Tommy. You’re old enough to have been in high school then, I think.”

Brock sank in place.  _ Good job, idiot, _ he thought.  _ You dumb ape. Good work.  _

“Oh yeah?” he asked, as casually as he could. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve read old Ranger stuff,” Allen said. “A  _ lot _ of old Ranger stuff. Back when the Empire fell, a lot of their identities were exposed. I remember hearing a few survived. And...you’re like fifty-one, right?”

Brock paused. “Fifty two,” he corrected, quietly.

“So...so then you’re the second Red Ranger,” Allen continued. “Right?”

“I’m...I’m just Brock,” he said, and kept working the pins into the links. “That’s it. Don’t go around telling anyone otherwise.”

Allen’s face was still awestruck, and his hand came to his neck, rubbing the spot at the base of his head. “Wow, I just...all this time,” he said, reeling. “I’ve been led by a Ranger legend.”

“I’m no legend, kid,” Brock said, but his voice was soft. “Just an old man in a kid’s suit.”

“Still,” Allen said. “I just...I never thought...no wonder you’re so good at this.”

“I’m not…” Brock started to argue, but the compliment put a warm spot in his chest, and he couldn’t bring himself to argue. 

Allen thought a second, then said, “So, what was Tommy like?”

Brock snorted. “What, you want his autograph?”

“Autograph?” Allen asked, looking genuinely surprised. “What? No, I mean, before. When he was still a villain.”

Brock looked at Allen, and his face was entirely sincere; he genuinely wasn’t trying to ask about the old leader and previous Ranger. Brock’s tension slowly ebbed in surprise.

“Oh,” he said, and his voice softened again. “I, uh, don’t know. I wasn’t there. I came in after he was leader and the White Ranger.”

“Was it worth it, then?” Allen asked. “Saving him, I mean.”

Brock didn’t respond for a moment, and he stopped working on the chain. The question rattled around in his head as he thought of it, tossing about all the mixed feelings in his heart from his time as a Ranger. Tommy slipped in as leader, leaving Rocky to float around in the red helmet. Second banana to the man the world thought of as the Greatest Ranger ever to bear a morpher. The White Ranger himself.

But he glanced at the need in Allen’s face, and he couldn’t bring himself to dump all his baggage on this man half his age.

“Yeah,” Brock said, at last. “Yeah. He was.”

Allen looked for a second hopeful, but still tinged with indecision and worry. Brock said nothing, returning to work on the chain before him, letting him think. When enough time had passed, he spoke up.

“That should be enough,” he said, looking at his handiwork. It was a crude patch job, but it would hold, and that was enough. “Let’s get the other ones done.”

“Sure,” Allen said. And after a pause, he added, “Uh...Brock.” 

Together, the two men spent the rest of the afternoon not speaking of Ranger business.

\--

Kay gave a puzzled look at the complex bit of machinery in her hand. She had seen this part dangling out of the console when they first came in after the Jagoranger had cut it apart, and she had no clue what it did then, with its weird cylindrical shape and the odd spokes sticking out of it. It looked like some sort of oversized spiked club.

She held the thing out towards the fabrication panel, and jammed it into the open space. She leaned over, back into the hallway that led to the Zord bay, and yelled, “Okay, try it!”

There was a beat, and suddenly the wall started humming and vibrating as energy coursed through it, centering around the space next to the component.

“Is...it supposed to-” Kay started to say, but the door suddenly slid open and the vibrating stopped -- a component exactly like the one she put to the side lay there, minus the massive cut in the center from the Jaguar Blade.

“Huh,” she said, and grabbed it. She took the broken one out of the wall and gave it a quick chuck to the side. It clattered as she wandered off back up the ramp, into the hub of the base.

The control panel they had been using for so long had been totally ripped open; Jessie, dressed in grubby work clothes, had tied her hair into a bun and was lying on the top of the desk, peering over the side. A pair of legs in tight and clipped dress pants dangled out the bottom, and the blak skin color of the tummy and ankles indicated it was Blaire.

“It worked,” Kay said, and twirled it overhead as she fished it to Jessie.

“Perfect,” Jessie said, then craned her neck. “Coming your way, Blaire.”

“Thanks,” he said, and his voice was giddier than Kay had heard it before. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Jessie asked, as the odd piece dipped lower.

“Stop there,” Blaire’s voice said underneath her, and she did. “Yeah! Nice to feel useful around here, you know? I’m right at home with wiring up a computer.”

“It’s not too complicated?”

“You kidding?” Blaire said, and gave a genuine smile. “I don’t recognize a lot of the parts, but it’s all basic computer building. This thing’s like a big laptop. They’re a cinch.”

“Oooh,” Jessie said. “A cinch, huh? A real computer pro?”

At that, Blaire wilted. “Well, I dunno about pro. But it’s one of my better skills. Not like, fighting or anything.”

Kay gave a snort, and it was loud enough to make sure Blaire heard it. She walked a few feet over and put her elbows on the desk, peering into the hole in the console to look down at him.

“Oh really?” she asked. “If you suck at fighting then how come I see blue arrows splattering clayheads in Beacon City every few days?”

“Oh, that isn’t me,” Blaire said. “That’s-”

“‘The Blue Ranger’, yeah,” Kay said, and waved a hand. “Don’t waste my time with that crap.”

Through the gap in the panel, Kay could see Blaire flinch, and turn his head away. “I..I just...” he stammered, weakly.

“Kay, come on,” Jessie said, softly. “Leave him alone.”

Kay ignored her; she looked right down at Blaire through the hole. “Save the excuses,” she said. “You’re not Bruce Banner, dork. You don’t have a split personality. Grow up.”

Jessie could see Blaire’s defensive habits kick in -- he turned away, looking incredibly ashamed. “I’m...I’m sorry,” he blurted, and his gaze laser-focused on the wiring in front of him. His hands moved quickly as he attached wires and plugs to various circuit panels. “S-sorry…”

Kay hopped off the desk, flicking a hand out as she did. “See to it you don’t do it again,” she said, and trotted off. “I’m gonna go see what the boys are up to if you’re done with me. Yell if you need.”

She trotted off, heading back towards the Zord bay. Jessie gave her a glance, and then back to Blaire, and said, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

The Ranger gave a tight nod as he kept at his work; quickly, Jessie popped off the console and followed Kay briskly, her heels making loud clacking noises as she ran down the ramp just after the Black Ranger.

Jessie skidded to a halt next to her, hand catching her wrist, turning Kay to face Jessie. Kay gave her a startled look.

“Why are you so mean to him?” she said, and her voice had a slight amount of anger to it.

Kay shrugged. “I’m mean to everyone,” she corrected, with a smirk.

Jessie gave her a light ‘whap’ on the chest with the back of her hand. “Be serious, damn it,” she hissed. “Why are you  _ like this?” _

“I don’t know,” Kay muttered, and turned her head away. “I just...I just am, okay?”

“Kay,  _ come on, _ ” the Yellow Ranger pleaded, more loudly this time. “Just  _ try, _ what’s going on with you?”

Kay didn’t answer for a minute, giving quiet noises with her mouth open, trying to argue. But Jessie’s stare was penetrating, and she felt a weird obligation to honor her request.

“I just…” she managed, after a minute, and ran her hands through the short-cut blonde hair. “I don’t like people I can’t figure out.”

“Figure out?”

“Yeah, like…” Kay gave a gesture in front of herself. “They’re unpredictable. If Blaire gets it in his head that he’s this Tyler Durden thing, how can I know how he’ll act?”

Jessie pursed her lips as she regarded Kay. “You could have some faith,” she said. “They’re good guys.”

“I’m sure they are. But I don’t know that for sure.”

Jessie looked at Kay closely, and her arms folded. “What about me?” 

Kay reeled like she was surprised. “I, uh, what?”

“Do you trust me?”

Kay looked like a cornered animal for a moment, and her breath was caught for a second as she was again bored into by Jessie’s perceptive gaze. When she spoke, it was a weak, stammering, “I...I don’t know.”

“Mmm, really?” Jessie said, and her mouth quirked. “You don’t know at all?”

Kay looked away; Jessie got the feeling if she was less under control, she’d be blushing. “You’re...different,” she muttered, under her breath. “I dunno, just...different.”

Jessie thought a moment of pressing the issue, but the obvious discomfort was all over Kay’s face, as her eyes avoided Jessie’s and she shuffled in place. She looked like a bashful teenager, and Jessie got the sensation that digging in would scare her off like a frightened deer.

“‘Different’ is good for now,” Jessie said, and gave her a pat on the arm. “Just, think about being a little nicer to them, alright? Blaire’s a sweet guy.”

Kay grumbled under her breath. “I’m not...very good at ‘nice,’” she muttered. “I suck at nice, actually.”

“All the more reason to try,” Jessie said, and quirked a smile. “Do it for me, then. The ‘different one.’”

Kay gave a weak laugh, and this time, her cheeks actually did flush red.

\--

Nate sat in his room, an entirely bare and minimalist corner of the Imperial Castle that belonged to him. He sat on the bed, in his plain clothes, rubbing the morpher bracelets on either wrist. He was deep in thought, so much so that he was getting a headache, and he had been for some time.

It had been a full day since his assault on the base, and he had gotten very little sleep as he thought over the baffling and perplexing orders he was given by his so-called ‘partner’ in the Golden Empire. 

_ Storm the base, _ he thought, pressing his hands together.  _ Cut the Rangers off from their Zords. And then...let the monster fall. And wait. _

The plan made no sense to him. There was no endgoal that he could understand. The monster perished, too, and then shortly afterwards, Uliana headed back to her sanctum on the upper floor. Again. 

_ It’s like she doesn’t want to win… _ Nate thought. It was not the first time he had mulled over that idea.

At last, he inhaled through his nose, anger and resolve in his heart. He would have answers.

Nate stood up and marched out of his room. He went past the entrance to the Throne Room where he knew she wasn’t, and right towards the staircases he had seen her head for many times. The ones he had been told, expressly, never to enter.

Nate strode boldly up the staircase, going through the winding tower up, up, up, until it stopped at the third level of the floor, splitting off into another room and another set of staircases going upward. He craned his head into the room, and his jaw fell open.

Nate didn’t know what he was looking at at first. It looked like just a black and metallic organ to some kind of unearthly monstrosity, sitting in the center of the room, its black tendrils stretching out in all directions. Black cables and pipes stretched up into the ceiling, off into the walls, and down into the floor, penetrating into the stone masonry.

The Imperial Castle had always been threadbare and thin, a ghost of what Nate assumed it was at its height. No chairs or seating, the entirely still elite clayhead guards that decorated the outer perimeter and inner sanctum, and the wall tabards and decorations were either falling apart or simply gone. Light sources were entirely magical, lacking in the warmth of a real fire.

By comparison, this monstrosity took up almost the entire room, if not by its sheer size then by all the stuff coming out of it, stretching in all directions and filling the room. He stepped in carefully, observing his path as he did.

As he got closer to the incomprehensibly huge thing, stepping over the uncertain footing of the round rubber cables and odd pipes, he saw that it was lopsided and also topheavy, and halfway merged into the ceiling at the top. It balanced almost entirely on giant metalwork supports beneath it, and they looked like they were buckling under the tremendous weight. 

_ Is this...some kind of engine?  _ He thought, narrowing his eyes. The design was similar to cars and trucks he had seen, with the single unified engine and all the piping coming off of it in all directions. But also different, unlike any engine he knew of.

He squinted to observe the struts and supports -- some were slightly bent, and they were placed at odd angles. Nate wasn’t a professional, but he could tell this was clearly a patch job done with ‘if it works, it works’ in mind. 

As he stared at it, dumbstruck by the machine before him, he heard the rustling of fabric and clacking of feet. Uliana turned the corner, not noticing him, and bent low to reach a keyboard mounted to the wall at the base. A monitor flicked to life in front of her, and she paused, brow furrowing a moment, and she started furiously typing. It was far enough away that Nate had no idea what she was doing.

Seeing her clicked Nate’s anger back on in his heart, and he clenches his fists together as he announced himself with a sharp, “Emissary.”

Uliana let out a shriek of surprise -- one that very much didn’t sound like her normal voice -- and whirled, mouth open, hand clasped at her chest. “Jagoranger!?” she blurted, and for a second she was only shocked and totally lost the haught and presence he had grown so used to. 

But she quickly pulled it back together, stood up to full height, shot her arms down to her side, narrowed her eyes at him, and said, “Jagoranger,  _ what are you doing here?!  _ You were  _ ordered- _ ”

Nate swung a hand at the black engine as he cut her off. “What the hell is  _ this _ ?” he demanded. “Is this your plan? Was this your big scheme?”

“Jagoranger,  _ get out of here, _ ” she snapped, and with a gesture in the air, her brass crescent moon scepter appeared in her hand. “I forbid you from coming here.”

“I want to know what you’re planning,” he said, and met her gaze without blinking. 

Uliana gave a scoff. “I owe you nothing,” she said, sternly. “I told you, I have my reasons.”

“You owe me clear strategy,” he countered, and swung a hand out. “But yesterday you sent me in to cut down the Zords, then you pulled me back when we were  _ winning! _ ”

Uliana’s lips grew white as she pressed them together, and swung her scepter up towards Nate, like the loaded gun that it was. “Jagoranger, you have  _ five seconds _ to leave before I-”

“You don’t want the Power Rangers out of the way, do you?” Nate shouted over her, cutting her off. “You’re doing something else.”

The Emissary’s eyes widened slightly, and her scepter dipped just a little. Nate saw, and knew he had landed home. 

“You’re planning something else, I can tell,” he said. “I want you to tell me what it is. I am  _ not  _ leaving until you do.”

Uliana stared at him for some time, hesitating. The scepter didn’t lower, but she said nothing. 

Nate started to speak, but in the distance behind him, echoing through the halls of the staircase, was the sound of metallic armor clanking as it grew closer. The Knight was coming, and Nate tensed his arms to morph as he heard him enter.

“Emissary!” the Knight boomed, and his feet banged into the ground as he charged over. “Forgive me, I was remiss in my guardianship. I will remove him presently.”

He came to a halt at Nate’s side, and turned his helmet towards Nate, towering over him as he did. The Knight had no face, but Nate knew, without a doubt, that he was being glared at. 

The Knight’s gauntlet came out and grabbed him by the bicep. “Out, Jagoranger,” he barked. “Immediately.”

“Get your goddamned mitts off me, tin can,” Nate snapped, and yanked his arm free. 

The Knight gave an echoy, metallic inhale, and suddenly his free hand reached up and gripped a fistful of Nate’s shirt, and tugged it up into the air. “I said,  _ out,” _ he growled, and gently pulled until Nate’s feet were almost leaving the ground.

Nate, undeterred, merely glared over the brass gauntlet clutching his collar. “Don’t make me kick your ass,” he said. “Because I can, and will.”

The Knight reached for his sword, Nate’s hands tensed as he prepared to morph -- and suddenly Uliana barked out, “ _ Knight! _ ”

The construct paused, and his grip loosened as he lowered Nate, helmet turning towards his superior. “My...my emissary,” he said, patiently. “He is trespassing. I will-”

“That’s enough, Knight,” Uliana said, and she had put her scepter down, looking between Nate and her prized soldier. “The Jagoranger has brought…” she hesitated a moment. “Important information up to me. He and I must speak in private.”

“I...I heard you yelling,” the Knight replied, slowly. “I was-”

“He startled me, and I was...unprepared,” Uliana replied, carefully, visibly struggling to think of what to say. “He has since, ah, apologized. We are going to speak in private now.”

The lie was obvious even to the liar; but the Knight had orders, and he was a creature of the law. Slowly, he released Nate, until the fabric that stuck to the hinges of his gauntlet snapped away. 

“I will post a station outside,” he said, and bowed before her gently. “Just in-”

“No, Knight, that will be all,” Uliana said, and gestured with her free hand. “Please, I must have privacy.”

The Knight of Doors paused for some time, looking at his ruler carefully, then to Nate, who clearly was pleased with the order he was given. Slowly, the bronze warrior gave a bow, and nodded.

“As you wish,” he said, and turned to walk away. As the knight passed by the much shorter human, Nate made sure the Knight saw the smirk on his face. 

He was so occupied with rubbing it in that he was unprepared when a giant metallic foot came down right on his toes, smashing the bones and muscle enough to make Nate yelp in pain and jump back.

The exiting knight made no noise, but there was a soft ‘hnh’ under his breath of amusement. 

“Jackass,” Nate growled, but was too proud to clap a hand over his aching foot.

Once gone, he turned to Uliana, who had her hand lazily resting on her scepter, other arm at her side, looking at him expectantly.

“So,” she said, looking him up and down. “How much did you figure out?”

He shrugged, carefully. “Enough,” he said. “Enough to know something fishy was going on.”

She exhaled out of her nose. “You’re correct,” she said. “I have a greater plan. And it’s related to the Rangers.”

“And that thing?” Nate asked, and pointed over her head.

She glanced back at the black monster behind her, then back at him. After a moment, she said, “Yes. And the Dark Machine.”

“The Dark Machine?”

Uliana was quiet for a moment, mouth pressed flat, and looking at him with skepticism. 

Nate’s anger returned. “Just tell me,” he snapped, hotly. “I’ve already proven myself.”

The Emissary pursed her lips, thinking a moment, then said, “No, you haven’t. Not yet. But I will tell you, but not today. You have to earn my trust.”

“I have earned it.”

“No,” she countered. “Not yet. One more attack for me. As the Jagoranger.”

Nate paused. “And then you’ll tell me everything?”

She looked conflicted for a moment, but nodded. “Yes,” she said, forcing the words out of her mouth. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Nate hesitated, looking at her, then at the giant black obelisk -- the Dark Machine -- behind her. He had more questions. He didn’t know if she would hold to her word. He suspected the ‘one more attack’ could be a way to eliminate him.

He would watch her carefully; but for now, he nodded, and said, “Then we have nothing else to discuss.”

He turned to leave, but surprising himself, he turned back to her, and added a quick, “Thanks.”

Uliana’s face was blank, but her mouth and eyes were slightly pained, in a way Nate had never seen from her before. She said nothing, but gave him a small nodd, and gestured out. He was being dismissed.

Nate left, and before walking down the staircase, he glanced back at her, and remembered her sudden personality shift when he startled her, and the quickly recovered act of being the Emissary of Gold. As he saw her turn back, crouch down, and begin to peck at the keyboard, he wondered what exactly she was feeling when Nate thanked her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooboy that's a hell of an update. Hopefully they'll look more like this from now on! Nice and meaty.
> 
> Got suspended from twitter for something dumb and I'm on @drwallkick now
> 
> I also opened up my old tumblr to start posting fanart I've commissioned of the characters. There's art of Uliana the Emissary of Gold, as well as the main 5 rangers there: https://cannonbarrage.tumblr.com/


End file.
